Fox and the Wolf
by Aveira
Summary: Lambert took Vesemir's death the hardest, though he didn't show it. He takes Geralt's advice and goes to Toussaint to try and find closure, or at least a way to cope with the life he has.
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing. I started reading the Fox Children while I was playing the Blood and Wine expansion. I love Toussaint, and the vampires everywhere. Anyway, I haven't written a thing in years. This is the result of a horrible cold, cold medicine, too much alone time, and wanting to see more of the other Witchers.

OoOoO

Kaer Morhen sat in isolation, her crippled bones laid bare to the world. Winter had come and the Keep sat alone, withered and beaten. The holes in her walls from every battle, hard fought and hard one, still open wounds. The empty rooms full of rotting food and forgotten books. Moth eaten linens in rooms that have forgotten the feel of life. A lone grave marker sat down a nearly forgotten trail, the last life taken from within her walls lay just inside the reach of her shadow. No name, no markings other than the remains of a pyre and a sword impaled into the earth.

It had been three years since the Hunt had invaded this world in search of the child of the Elder Blood, hunting and seeking with all their might. She was a wolf, through and through, and they could not cage her. Despite every effort, every attempt to hurt, hinder, despite their desperation she persevered and won the hard fight. But she was not left unaffected. At the cost of those she held dear, the ones she loved. _Vesemir, Skjall, Geralt, Yennefer._ The latter two survived at the mercy of Unicorns. She had watched her brothers fight for her, her friends and what she called family.

Kaer Morhen sat alone, not quite forgotten, but alone none the less. They agreed to meet, one last time seeing each other all in one place, Ciri had demanded it and not a single Witcher who knew her could deny the little wolf. Lambert arrived a full day before Eskel, wandering the grounds of the keep and paying his respects to his former mentor. Geralt had arrived half a day behind Eskel with Ciri and Yennefer.

"I told you, I hate teleporting." Geralt groaned, rubbing his temples irritably as he walked away from a very proud Yennefer to where Eskel and Lambert had already started drinking, a decent fire burning in the hearth.

"You're getting much better, dear." Lambert and Eskel exchanged curious glances, Yennefer glowered at them. "Go on, then. Say it."

Eskel threw his hands up in a sign of defeat. "Hey, hey, not going to say a thing."

Lambert gave her a sneer. "Doesn't prove anything, still a heartless shrew." Lambert didn't bother making eye contact, simply pouring a drink for Geralt as he sat down. "What do you think of Witcher life now?" He glanced up at the young woman, completely ignoring Yennefer's furious shouting.

"Better than I could have imagined." She laughed as she spoke, filled with excitement and wonder.

Lambert scoffed, his own experience being far less joy-filled. He had few friends, most of which had been murdered or died on 'the path'. He hated that stupid saying. What path was he supposed to walk, where was he supposed to be going?! "Good. Can't imagine how it could be _better_ but…good."

"I'm free, Lambert. I chose this life, chose to be a Witcher. I'm free of the schemes of…why are you looking at me like that?" Ciri cocked her head to one side, Lambert looking completely disgusted with either her or his drink.

Geralt held up a hand, sensing the problem before the young Witcher could say more. "She just means she chose to live like us, she's not downplaying any of what you or any of us had to go through. Besides, if you could have chosen differently, wouldn't you?" Lambert sighed, nodding solemly.

"Yeah, I would have." He changed expressions so fast it made Yennefer do a double take. "Where the hell is Merrigold and her little friend Kiera? Thought _everyone_ was coming to this little shin-dig."

"Triss is in Kovir, couldn't get away from the King long enough to visit. Kiera is in Oxenfurt with Rita re-opening the University." Yennefer's voice was unusually soft, Geralt thought it might have actually been for Lambert's sake she hadn't said anything sooner. Both Sorceress' had taken a strong disliking to him.

Once he left Kaer Morhen with Kiera they had become quite infatuated with one another. Turns out Kiera was infatuated with his usefulness and skill, not so much the man he was. She would dole out affection incrementally and only if the work deemed it worthy. It was more payment than pleasure and Lambert had grown to resent her for treating him more like a tool and less like a person. _'Any port in the storm'_ she'd said, she had mentioned her little stint with Geralt and how _he_ had once helped her _'in so many ways, much like you Lambert.'_ He left her, in the middle of a busy market in Novigrad, in broad daylight. Turned around and walked away from her, not bothering to say anything to her for almost a year. She found him, told him exactly where she thought he could sheathe his sword, and dropped a pouch full off crowns at his feet. "Payment for a job done oh _so well_." And she was gone. Yennefer had never actually disagreed with or downplayed his anger, personally she felt he had good reason and wasn't one for overreacting or lies.

Now, three years past Vesemir, just over two past Kiera, and possibly seventy overall, he looked older. She had mentioned her concerns to Geralt, who had replied in his usual monotonous tone 'Lambert is Lambert, you can't fix that one'. Yennefer had never actually tried to fix anything that was living, and wasn't about to start with that hopeless man-child parading as a monster hunter. But with all he had done and the sacrifices they had made for her daughter, she wanted to try.

"Go to Toussaint. Drink some wine, stay in Geralt's villa, and get _away_ from this horrid place." Ciri elbowed him in the ribs. "Do you some good to get out for a bit, see somewhere warm and colorful."

Lambert shot Geralt a curious grin. "Don't tell me you make wine now…is there anything your smug ass can't do?"

"Cook!" Eskel, Yennefer, and Ciri shouted in unison, earning a chuckle from Geralt and a snort of laughter from Lambert.

"Oh ho ho, that's right! _You're_ the reason we had to rebuild the kitchen here." Lambert slapped Geralt on the back. "That was good day, Vesemir was more pissed off at you then than he ever had been at me."

"Hey, what about the bee hive?" Ciri smirked at Lambert. He groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Oh Gods, _the_ bee hive. It was the largest hive I had ever seen, nestled in the chimney above the hearth over there." He pointed to the remains of a kitchen. "It blocked a lot of the smoke from leaving so it had to go, had no idea the damn thing was still being used. Bees don't tend to build around smoke or burning…anything." Lambert took a quick swallow from his mug. "I go up there, start pulling some of the stones away to pull the thing up…and BAM! The whole thing caves, drops the hive right in the fucking fire, the bees go beserk, and Vesemir swore if I ever came down he'd kill me himself."

"He stayed up there for three days." Eskel noted, grinning like a loon at Lambert. "Geralt and I had to go drag him down."

"He was _so_ pissed at me." Lambert chuckled, finishing his drink and pouring another.

"To Vesemir." Yennefer held up her glass of wine. The others did the same, taking a drink in his honor.

"Good luck on the path, old man." Lambert mumbled the words, oddly more affectionate than the others. Despite all his furious declarations to the contrary, Geralt knew Vesemir's death affected him more than he was willing to share. He was the only father figure who didn't beat him, didn't fill his head with fear or lies. He taught Lambert to be swift, strong, and to kill and protect. He turned him from an urchin into a warrior. Gave him purpose and drive. As much as Lambert bitterly complained about him, he was always the first to return for Winter, bringing proof of his skill back to the keep to show off.

They cooked, ate, and drank. Celebrating the man that brought them all together. Ciri talked of her contracts, of taking on a fiend. She showed off her scars that came with it.

Eskel talked about going to Zerrikania, he wanted to see a desert. "Sand as far as the eye can see? It sounds like a dry ocean. Scorpion would love it there." Yennefer encouraged it, said it would build character…and the Zerrikanians paid more for their contracts.

Geralt and Yennefer were going to Oxenfurt to meet with Rita and Kiera, which was more for Yen than Geralt. "After we've finished our work there, I believe we're going to the Blue Mountains. Geralt wanted to be away from Velen and _here_." She motioned at the frosty mountains.

"So, villa in Toussaint, huh?" Lambert was staring down at his empty mug. "You wouldn't mind if I stayed for a bit? I've never been there, it'd be interesting. I've always wanted to see a Tourney." His eyes lit up with childlike excitement.

"Of course! Make yourself at home, Lambert." Yennefer answered for Geralt. He nodded his agreement.

"You could use a change, of well…everything. Liked you better when you weren't so morose, prickly suits you." Lambert laughed at that and nodded, saying nothing. "Go and drink some wine, meet a girl, kill something. It would do you some good. No one will bat an eye at you, either." Geralt offered to pour more liquor into his mug, Lambert accepted.

"Really? That alone is reason to go. Witchers' common there?" Geralt shook his head in the negative. "Huh. Just…don't care?" He nodded.

"Toussaint is one of very few places that is heavily saturated with magical energy. Makes things a little dangerous but they've compensated with exceptionally well trained knights. And the occasional Witcher." Geralt put an arm around Yennefer, leaning back into his seat. "It's different in all the right ways." She gave him a knowing wink.

He took a long pull from his mug. "I think I'll do that." He downed the liquid and stood on wobbly legs. "I need to piss." Yennefer and Ciri groaned, Eskel and Geralt laughed.

"I told you, he's just...Lambert." Geralt laughed.

They talked well into the evening, regaling each other with their adventures over the last few years, with plans of a future they hoped to see. They laughed and drank like they hadn't done in years, since Ciri was a small girl training at the keep and Yennefer had tamed a Djinn. They laughed at Dandelion and his misadventures, talked about Nilfgaard and how it looked like things were falling back into place. With Radovid gone, mages and sorceress' had their freedom again. It looked as though the world was calm for now.


	2. Chapter 2

It took over a month to reach Vengerberg, snow had slowed him at every turn. Though, it was his fault for leaving so late in the season. As he entered into Lyria the weather had cleared. He stayed a night in Rivia before moving on to Toussaint.

It was incredible just how different this little wine country was compared to the dirty little wasteland that Temaria was, or the chilly islands of Skellige. It was warm, bright, and full of color. It even smelled better.

Lambert came to a tavern, The Silver Salamander Inn. It had a rustic charm. Wooden bowls, wooden spoons, pewter goblets and crystal wine decanters. The wooden tables were well worn and smooth.

"Well? Gonna come in an' have a drink or stand their starin'?" He hadn't noticed anyone prior to walking through the door.

He sauntered in and took a seat by one of the windows. "Vod-no, wine! I'll have some wine, hear your country is famous for it." He eyed the woman. Her hair was sun bleached, scattered strands of silver marking her age at somewhere beyond forty summers. Fine lines around the eyes, laugh lines around her mouth, and healthy curves.

"We've got several, want something dark or light?" She pulled out a clean goblet, preparing a plate of cheese and fresh fruit. "Goes with the wine." She motioned to the plate.

"Hm…surprise me." Lambert slid out of his leather coat, pulled his map of the area out. "Hey, how do I get to this vinyard? Corvo Blanco…I think it is." She brought over a glass of a rose colored wine.

"It's called Rosé, it was the first wine produced in Toussaint." Her voice had a musical lilt to it, not at all unpleasant. "And to get there, you'll take the road west, pass the statue to Lebioda. Follow the road until you reach Fox Hollow, it's a small town with an Inn of the same name. The vineyard is maybe an hour down the road from there.

Lambert listened as he sipped the wine with a satisfied hum. "This is pretty damn good."

"Try it with the cheese, that's even better." The woman called over her shoulder. He tried it and had to agree that it tasted even better, but then again it was just wine and cheese and he could use a good meal he hadn't burned over a campfire.

As the afternoon wore on more and more patrons began shuffling in and ordering drinks and meals. A few started a gwent game, others simply sat and talked about their day. It was all so surreal to be in a place where monsters existed and he wasn't counted in their ranks. No one avoided him, sneered, or gave him those terrified glances. Some smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, some said hello, some just walked on by as if they hadn't seen him at all.

He finished his wine and food and left. He picked up speed, letting the horse lope along the trail. He had never been much for color or beauty. The odd brothel girl, pretty enough for a night and fifty crowns. Scenery? Never really cared, it was all the same to him. A tree, bush, dirt road, ruddy little children and dirty peasants. Nothing he ever cared for.

His thoughts kept going back to the fight at Kaer Morhen, of Vesemir dying. He was furious with Vesemir. Now it wasn't a matter of his childhood being robbed, cut short, or made any worse by being taken to Kaer Morhen. This had become about Vesemir dying soft, neck snapped like a twig. He had expected more fight out of the man who made him what he was, and last he checked he wasn't soft. But his mentor had died…was it soft? He _did_ keep Ciri from the hunt. He pushed the thoughts back, he'd deal with them another time.

Fox Hollow was in the distance, looking pretty as a painting. Children watched him ride by, cheering and laughing behind his horse. He realized that they were happy to see him, he was a novelty. A _valiant_ novelty at that. _'I want to be a Witcher when I grow up!' 'Look at that! He has snake eyes!'_ Adults were smiling, women blushing as he went by. _'Could get used to this'_ he couldn't help but laugh to himself.

He came up to the Inn, was slowly walking by. The Inn was an oversized Tavern, he assumed it had rooms upstairs. Downstairs had tables of people playing cards, bards singing and playing music in a language he didn't quite remember. Children ran amok, chasing each other with sticks and their dogs, laughing as they went. It was beautiful and peaceful. He caught a young woman with mahogany brown hair and clear blue eyes watching him, she gave a shy little wave as his eyes landed on hers, looking away as though she'd been caught doing something. He gave the Tavern another once over before continuing on.

The vineyard was incredible, wide open and beautiful. It was cared for by a small army of people, all carrying out their own little tasks. He left his horse at the stable, an older man took the reins and led him in, apparently unaffected by him not being Geralt.

"You seem like you knew I was coming." Lambert eyed the stable hand suspiciously. "Geralt have a lot of people coming and going?"

"The Gentleman had no such business. He had stated previously that his _brothers_ may make use of his living space periodically. The woman was here recently, stated a 'Lambert' would be making use of the accomidations." He sounded pompous, clearly _not_ a stable hand.

"Good job, Yen." He muttered, running a hand through his hair. He realized then that he smelled, worse than the horse. "Anywhere I can clean up?"

The pompous man pointed to the house. "I shall have water brought to you." Lambert couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Geralt being catered to, hand and foot, by these people.

After a long hot soak and getting dressed in something clean he decided to head out. The Fox Hollow was nearest and he could use a good drink and was eager to see the sights. It had been nearly a decade since he'd last traveled this far south, he was curious what had changed. Fox Hollow was relatively new. He arrived just before dusk, took a seat at the lively tavern and was surprised, again, by the odd hospitality of the people there. He played a game of gwent with the bar keep, ordered the rabbit stew and a tankard of ale.

"So, Master Witcher. Haven't seen you here before, did you come for a contract? Or just to take in the sights?" He was a big, surly looking fellow. Yellowed teeth and balding, but still somehow kind in all his mannerisms.

Lambert thought for a moment. "I may take a contract but mostly it was to get somewhere warm." He spoke around his food, trying best not to take a mouthful too big to answer the man. "It's odd, you know, coming here and not having people run from me."

"People don't respect their hero's where you're from?" His name was Ivan, from Nilfgard, wanted to get away from military life and the war. So he brought his family here to live in peace. "Seems odd, I'll admit. People here live at a different pace than other places. War doesn't breed the fear and hatred that it did in the North. There's too much…I don't what it is, but people here just don't seem to hate one another." Ivan smirked, pouring more ale.

"I guess it isn't that, in the North there's a lot more than monsters to fear. Or maybe it's those that rule are more frightening. But usually, when I enter a tavern, women run and men avoid eye contact." It bothered him in some way that these people didn't seem to mind, if anything they were excited by whatever it could have been that drew a Witcher into their little town. "Stew's good." Lambert took another bite.

"Thank you, Witcher. We cook it all day, makes the meat nice and tender." A young woman sidled up beside him. "Two bowls, Ivan." She leaned against the counter, facing Lambert. He gave her a once over out of the corner of his eye. Long dark brown hair, pointed ears, her floor length dress was the color of leaves in spring time. It was held on with a leather corset, which only enhanced her figure.

"You work here?" He turned to look at her fully. Her eyes danced over him, beautiful blue.

"Mmm…indeed, Witcher." She gave him a shy smile before leaving to deliver the food.

"Lambert, don't need to keep calling me _Witcher_." He kept his eyes on the bowl, smirking to himself.

"Ok…Lambert." She sounded it out slowly, testing the sound of it. "Not a bad name." She disappeared into the crowd, people cheering and laughing. Two men eyed her hungrily, quickly snatching the bowls from her hands like a pair of starving hounds. Ivan chuckled as she made her way back.

"Hungry folks tonight." He said with a grin. "Near lost your hand, Meadow. Got to move faster!" He tossed her a clean towel with a little chuckle.

"Gods, don't I know it." Her voice was light, soft and sweet. She started to wipe down the table beside Lambert. "So, what brings you to our little hollow?"

"I was asked to come out here, friend of mine suggested trying the wine." _And then some._ "Might take a contract or two while I'm here."

"Lots of monsters out here, shouldn't be hard to make a few crowns." She finished cleaning up the table and decided to sit with him. "But why are you _really_ here?" She said it softly, like she knew there had to be more to his story.

Lambert paused mid bite, giving her a look that was somewhere between being annoyed with her prying and amused that she was so intent on starting up a conversation with him. "It's personal, actually. I'm here for me, not a contract." He took the last bite of his meal and pushed the bowl back, taking a long drink of his ale.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend. You just seemed like you had more to say." Her smile didn't falter or fade in the slightest. Perhaps she was just a friendly elf, not that he had ever met anyone that was _friendly_ with a Witcher. For free, at least.

He gave her a slight nod in acknowledgement. "Don't worry about it. What about you? Any reason you're trying to talk up a Witcher?" He eyed her mischievously. She squirmed in her seat, her lips twitched nervously and she stood quickly.

"Curiousity." Meadow picked up his bowl. "More ale?" He nodded and she made her way behind the counter. She filled his mug and made to leave.

"What about the cat?" He asked, giving her a wide, teasing grin.

"A cat gets what's coming to them, I am far too clever to let _that_ happen to me." Meadow dusted her hands off and picked up a few dirty mugs from tables near him.

He took a drink and chuckled. "Well, aren't we the clever little vixen?"

She chuckled as she walked away. "You have no idea." She whispered under her breath.

Lambert drank and watched. People were laughing, singing, playing cards, and music. The bards and troubadours played a few fast paced songs he'd never heard before. He started to think Geralt was right, getting out of that filthy little hovel, away from Novigrad and Oxenfurt…and _her_. Lambert wasn't a sucker, or a particularly nice individual, but Kiera had her ways of getting exactly what she meant to out of him. Other than Geralt and Eskel, he didn't have friends. Hell, he didn't actually like normal people. Weak, stupid, smelly. The entire population of Temaria disgusted him in new and utterly uninteresting ways every chance they got. The worst were the ones who thought they could out fight a Witcher. He thought of Aiden. He was a Witcher from another school, one that had an altogether deplorable reputation, but he was more…like Geralt, or Vesemir. He was honest, walking the path and plying his trade.

It got him killed and had Lambert and Geralt killing another Witcher. Geralt had done it without so much as batting an eye. Geralt knew well that Lambert was, if nothing else, a loyal friend. He didn't care what Aiden had done to get himself killed, he just knew that it was a death that needed an answer. He let Lambert have his vengeance, without question. Details, sure, but he never said no. Stood toe to toe against another Witcher with him, and killed him. Lambert had shown up to Kaer Morhen a week later ready to march through any hell for him. Him and Ciri.

Lambert finished his mug and gratefully took another. He was even more grateful when she left a rather large decanter full of ale for him. Meadow gave him a wink "just enjoy yourself, this is on me" before pushing the crowns back to him.

Lambert sat back, thinking of when Ciri was just a little thing. All scrawny skin and bone. And a girl. He had balked at the idea of a female Witcher. "She's too weak, we don't trains _girls_ , Geralt. She'd never survive the mutations." Little did he know who and what she'd turn out to be. Or how wrong he had been. Geralt spent a majority of his time with her, teaching her to fight, Eskel spent some time teaching her to fight bare handed. Lambert spent a fair amount of time with her, she would teasingly call him her brother. He cared, in his Lambert like way. He had actually enjoyed training with her, she was a quick study and had been an eager student. He taught her how to dance, and she was unstoppable with a sword in her hand. She moved like water, graceful and powerful. He wasn't ashamed to admit she was better than him, he would have been grateful to have her in a fight any time. Vesemir had taught her the monsters, their weakness and strengths and taught her not to show fear, no matter the enemy. Something he taught all the boys in his care.

' _Fear is a monster in and of itself, defeat it an all will fall before you. Fail and you will die.'_ Lambert always hated those lessons. Fear was a monster, it took the shape of his father, Aiden, Geralt, and even Vesemir. He was afraid now, withot Vesemir it felt like his way of life, the way of the Witcher, was at an end. Funny how the old man could hold the whole world together.

By the time the night was nearly dawn he decided to head back to the vineyard. He said his goodbyes to Ivan and Meadow, and the few people he'd met while watching everyone else.

"Long walk back?" He spun around, the lithe little elf standing near the tavern's sign, a brown threadbare shawl wrapped around her sholders.

He shook his head, running his hands through his hair. "Nah, just a hop skip and a…where's my horse?" He looked around, confused until he saw the beast helping itself to some hay and feed. "Damn pig." He muttered.

Meadow laughed, it was a musical sound that Lambert quickly learned he liked. "Can't help what he is, which is apparently very hungry." She waved him off when he offered her some coin for the hay. "It's hardly noticeable, don't worry."

Lambert turned toward her after he'd mounted. "You must not get a lot of travelers here." He said a bit offhandedly. "Everyone seems to know everyone else."

"We get a fair amount but they're all the same. Merchant, wine maker, noble family, peasants. No one has any stories, no adventure behind or ahead. It's all so…sedentary. Honestly I just want to _hear_ someone have an adventure, I'll sure as hell never go on one." She lamented, frowning at the building for a moment.

"Why?" His eyes caught the light, glowing yellow in the moonlight.

She paused to think for a moment. "I'm not sure where I'd go, what I'd do. Ivan took me in when I was a little girl, I've been living in a home of my own for nearly thirty years. I wouldn't remember the first thing about being out there and fending for myself." She pulled the shawl tighter around her body.

"It's not that difficult, get a horse, pack light, and go. Did you ever camp?" She nodded. "Do that, go camp further and further away. Eventually you'll be somewhere else." Lambert stretched in the stir-ups, adjusted his seat, and turned the horse around.

"Good night, Witcher." Meadow bowed her head as she turned back to the tavern. Lambert nudged the horse into motion and walked slowly back to the Villa.

He thought about his reasons for being here, wondered vaguely if Kiera had ever felt like Meadow did, and tried to imagine Kiera looking at him with as much interest as Meadow had. He shook his head to clear his thoughts but found himself replaying the sound of her laughter over and over in his head.


	3. Chapter 3

Toussaint had quite a bit to offer. He spent a few days traveling around the area, sampled the wines of the area (as Ciri had _strongly_ suggested). He quickly became a regular at the Fox Hollow. He enjoyed the music, Gwent, and food. Ivan made his own ale, and it was strong. He eyed the notice board when he came in, not quite looking for work but still curious if anything ever happened.

It was a warm night, a recent posting caught his eye.

 _Please help, some evil stalks our vineyard._

He heard a few women whispering about the deaths at a local vineyard, the bodies shredded and missing limbs.

 _Several workers killed, grape vines torn from the ground.  
I care not for the vineyard, please stop this creature  
before it kills again._

Others in the Tavern talked about Grenneck, who was apparently the proprietor of said vineyard, being inconsolable over the loss of his workers. They spoke of his wife, too afraid to leave the home. Called the place haunted.

"Sure doesn't sound haunted." He mumbled, folding up the notice.

A woman sat across from him. Her eyes glittering in the candle light. "No, not haunted. Sounds like they have an infestation. Could be bugs, they're pretty awful around here."

"Yeah? How so? Bigger? Drunk all the time?" He took a pull from his mug, glancing up at Meadow. "Know something about these people?" He motioned to the notice, now tucked in a pouch at his side.

She shook her head in the negative. "Not well, but I have helped Grenneck and Deidre with deliveries to their vineyard, met Elden and Heath." She sat quietly for all of three seconds. "What about those giant plants that come to life and eat people?"

"Archespores, yeah. I've seen 'em." He took a bite of his meal, boiled potatoes and chicken. "Don't think that's tearing people apart and keeping their arms and legs. Sounds like a troll, actually."

"I've never seen a troll, not alive. I've seen pictures, read about them in a book. Can they actually talk?" She watched him with curious anticipation.

Lambert thought of the trolls out by Kaer Morhen, dumb as a sack of bricks. "They're shit for conversation, too stupid really."

"What do they look like? Are they as big as a man?" She curled up in her seat, almost like a child, eagerly waiting for his answer.

"Yeah, they look like rocks with small heads. They can get taller than me, I think the biggest one I saw was in Skellige. Ugly fucker, ate anyone that came too close to its cave." Lambert started telling her about them, their odd way of talking, their incredibly simple logic. She had mentioned they seemed like children, just bigger. Lambert agreed that they also smelled twice as bad. "You wouldn't think it but they smell like rotting meat."

"So, are you going to help those people? That's what you do, right?" She snatched a piece of chicken off his plate.

Lambert watched her for a moment before answering. After all this time of him trying to ignore her she had managed to weasel her way onto his good side, despite his constant trying to put her off. She always had a meal and drink ready for him. After all those weeks of her pestering him, he finally gave in and started talking back. He had thought several times of finding another place to be social but he kept coming back, night after night. He was a glutton for punishment, though even he was hesitant to call her a punishment. Besides, Ivan was a nice enough guy, decent conversation and was pretty good at Gwent. Some of the other men and women that came in were fairly pleasant and he didn't mind the noise. Meadow treated him like he was a novelty, and in a strange way he'd grown to like it. She was fascinated by his scars, his swords, his eyes, God's she even nagged him about his clothing. She would fire off a series of questions about his day, ask if he was hungry, thirsty, she would wait patiently for him to eat. Once he'd finish his meal he'd tell her about whatever she wanted to know. After a while he started looking forward to seeing her.

"That was my chicken." Lambert finally spoke, watching her tear off a piece of his bread and nibble at it.

"And? I made it and you don't ever pay. Now talk, are you helping them or not?" She smirked, eyes full of hopeful curiosity, always with the curiosity.

"If I say yes will you leave my chicken alone?" He cast a worried glance at the chicken still on the plate.

She laughed at his expression. "Ok, deal."

He finished eating while she talked about the various people who lived at the vineyard. Older noble couple, three older sons who had been in line to inherit the land. She talked about Garrett, the oldest, and how he was controlling, meticulous, and extremely orderly. Also, an advisory to the Princess, one of many. He had no interest in the vineyard, would have sold it were his brothers not so eager to continue the family tradition. Wine makers, good wine too. The Royal Family of Beuclaire bought their wine frequently for feasts and banquets. Elden and Heath were twins who loved the land and wanted to expand it.

"I take it back, it's entirely likely there isn't even a monster involved." He plopped the empty mug down.

Meadow hopped up to grab another jug to fill his cup. "Think one of the boys killed those people? Why not kill the family, then?"

He thought for a moment. "Could be they're trying to scare them off. How have they been acting since all this happened? Where are they?"

"Garrett is still in Beuclaire, he has been working in the palace as an advisor of sorts. Elden and Heath live there. Garrett would never hurt his family, neither would the twins. Garrett is just…he's different, cold. He never really warmed up to anyone." She said with a shrug.

Lambert thought for a moment that she meant herself. Hard not to warm up to a woman who won't leave you alone. But maybe Garrett was more like himself, not very friendly or outgoing. Lambert could charm the coin out of anyone he wanted, he simply didn't care for people. He was bitter.

"I'll go to the vineyard in the morning, look at the bodies and see if I can figure out what happened." Meadow let out an excited squeak.

"Oh, I wish I could go! I've always wanted to see a Witcher in action." Lambert chuckled at her excitement.

"It's not like you think, pretty simple really. Enhanced senses help with most of it." He pointed to his eyes. "I can see pretty well in the dark, too. I have different potions to enhance different things." He held up a bottle of Swallow. "This speeds up the healing process, useful when something is kicking my ass."

"Why do you have two swords? One for each hand?" She said with a glance at them. "They look too heavy for that." She noted off handedly.

"Yeah, one at a time. Silver for monsters, steel for humans." His face was solemn. "I use the steel blade more often than I'd like." He thought of killing Jad Karadin, Selyse, and the red riders.

"You kill people, too?" Her voice faltered, he could sense the hesitancy in her.

"Sometimes, when I have to. In Velen there are a lot of very bad people, bandits and deserters from different armies. They tend to pillage and rape so I have to kill them. Nothing is as dangerous as a man, especially one who is has nothing left to lose." He kept his eyes on the mug, it made him sick to his stomach to think of all the men he'd killed. More than any knight would boast of, or any bandit he'd ever encountered. Sure people were awful, soulless creatures, but he never did get used to killing them. He only ever wanted to see two men dead, he'd had a chance to end one and the other died miles away from him without his permission.

Meadow reached out and touched his hand, snapping him back to reality. He started, looking at her delicate fingers against his calloused, rough hands. He thought it odd that she found him so interesting, that she was so eager to know him. But he didn't hate it. It was a far cry from Kiera, Triss, the brothel girls. He was an oddity, a curious creature for her to study. He was still surprised that she hadn't shown any disgust or repulsion, most women did at some point. When the novelty of a Witcher wore off and he was just another scared and damaged sack of flesh paying for the attention.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. I don't ever seem to know when I should stop prying into someone else's head. It's dull here, lovely but boring. I want adventure, excitement!" She clasped his hand firmly in her two smaller ones. "I want to see all the things you've seen, hear about trolls and bandits. I'm so afraid I'll spend my life here, wasting away into nothingness and boredom."

Lambert could respect that. She was young, at least younger than he was. Elves did live an awfully long time, though there were few pureblood elves in the world anymore. Most were sages, living off magic. She wasn't pure elf, but whatever it was had her living longer than normal.

"Your kind are never happy in one place for very long." He eyed her over his drink, leaning back in the chair as if to get a better look at her. "And I don't mean 'elves', which you most certainly are not."

She watched him for a moment, her eyes were looking right through him and it made him a little nervous. His medallion was vibrating so softly he nearly missed it. "No." Her voice was different, soft and yet somehow dangerous. "I am not." Her eyes changed, the iris became more of an oval, dilating in the dark of the tavern but he could see it clearly now. She was an Aguara, very rare and _very_ dangerous.

He studied her, how she moved and talked to the others when he saw her. He reasoned her interest in him was one of self-preservation, maybe even anger. "Why did you choose to live here?" He finally asked. "Of all places, _here._ " He sat back still staring at her. Figures, he goes to get away only to wind up in even deeper shit than before.

She sat back in her chair, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "I like it here. I'm not the only _tame_ monster here. I'm sure that if you know Geralt of Rivia then you know of Detlaff and Regis, and there's Orianna. I'm no blood sucker, but I've never done anything to any elven child. I just love the beauty of Toussaint. And wine, I do love wine." It made sense now, her odd attraction to him. "I like the odd little nuances of this country, that even a _monster_ such as I could find a place here."

He took another drink, she offered him more and he accepted. "Were you ever actually interested in me or was this all some elaborate test to see if I would kill you?" He couldn't quite explain the cause for his disappointment, it wasn't as if he'd actually come looking for anyone or anything. Even still, it was a refreshing change to have such a lovely young woman seeing him as a man and not a killer.

"No." She answered without hesitation. "I didn't want to tell you, I still don't, but if something is out there killing people then I should show myself now. I was never _worried_ about you, I don't think you've ever killed unnecessarily. I don't want to be a surprise later on, I'd rather not be killed by you. Or anyone." She stood and retrieved a mug for herself. "I protect them the best that I can, which is to say that _nothing_ happens to the people of Fox Hollow. I know enough from other healers to cure illness and sew wounds. I can fight, as I'm sure you're aware. I love these people, this is my home and I will protect it." She drained the mug without spilling a drop. He was impressed by that alone.

He thought for a moment. "So you are actually concerned for Garreck and his family?" He found it difficult to wrap his head around it. Her animal guile could be dangerous to even the most seasoned of his kind, but it would also make sense that she could effectively protect a village this small. Geralt had once mentioned a beautiful brunette and a red head who both were extremely grateful when he rid the place of bandits. He never mentioned anything about a fox woman being here, or magic of any kind happening near his vineyard.

"Yes." She didn't hesitate. "I don't know what has taken up residence in the forest there, but it is stronger than me." She poured herself another drink. "And it attacks in broad daylight, evening, whenever it pleases. I haven't been able to find anything, not its scent, no tracks, nothing."

"Well, I did say I would look into it." He declined another drink, she frowned. "I should get back, prepare for whatever it might be."

"I'm sorry if I've offended." She stood with him. "I just didn't want it to be a surprise later, I'm not capable of defending myself from you, either." She stared intently at her hands, wringing them together in worry.

Lambert didn't know what he was feeling, it wasn't like he'd never experienced a monsters' charms. There used to be a succubus in Oxenfurt who was _very_ talented. And he'd known a bruxa or two who were rather friendly with Witcher's. He couldn't decide if he felt foolish for thinking she was interested in him or for the fact that he hadn't noticed what she was earlier. "You didn't, I just didn't notice earlier and it pisses me off. I'm better than this." He dropped a coin pouch on the table. "For dinner." His tone was cold and he turned to leave. She started to stand, move after him, but he turned and stopped her with a look. "I'm not angry, Meadow. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, either. I just...now is a real bad fucking time for me to start losing my grip." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I'll be by tomorrow. Good night." He spun on his heel, rushing out the door. She could hear his horse whinny as it bolted for Corvo Blanco.

Meadow sat down, holding the coin purse in her hand for a moment. She hadn't wanted to tell him, it wasn't really relevant, she just let her guard down and let him _see_ what she was. She certainly wasn't killing anyone. She liked the people here, they were good and honest and they cared for each other. Ivan took her in when she was sick and hurt and never said a thing about what she was. _'Makes no difference where you came from. Toussaint is plenty full of strange as it is, you ought to fit right in.'_ She had never hurt a soul, not before she lived there and not since. She couldn't shake the coldness his eyes left her feeling, not quite sure why she should be so upset that a stubborn ass of a man was upset with her for being what she was.

"What's bothering you, little one?" Ivan came over to clean up the table and check in on her.

She made a soft whimpering sound and looked up, handing him the coin purse. "He thinks I'm a monster." She cringed at how pathetic she sounded.

Ivan chuckled and sat across from her. "Don't think he's just trying to figure you out? I see him watch you when you're off tending to the others, little one. He is a curious one, not sure why he's here but it wasn't to kill monsters." He leaned over, cupping her cheek. "It wasn't to hurt anyone. You could try and talk to him away from here, where everyone can see you." Meadow started to say she didn't know where he was staying. "You know damn well he's staying at Corvo Blanco, where Geralt lived. Go, talk to him."

She was gone before he turned around, dashing through the thicket and down the road. As a fox she was fast and far less noticeable. She saw his horse in the stable, looking perfectly content as it ate. She crept behind it, earning a curious snort from him. The door was ajar, she could hear him moving about inside and almost lost her nerve.

Meadow was terrified he'd come out angry with her, furious that the monster followed him home. She tilted her head, ears picking up the slightest movement. "Oh just come in already. Your breathing is so loud I heard you from the stable." She flinched at his tone. He sounded angry, drunk maybe.

She quickly assumed the feminine form he was used to seeing and hesitantly pushed the heavy door open. He was sitting at the end of a long table, a large bottle of liquor opened and two cups sitting in front of him. He motioned for her to take a seat. She made her way over to him, silent and nervous. He poured a drink into a wooden cup and a silver one, offering her the wooden. She whispered a thank you, taking the drink and sniffing it. Strong vodka, homemade, aged. She sipped it, surprised it was actually decent.

"I make it myself." He said softly, watching her drink.

She nodded. "I can tell, it's good." Coughing as the liquid scalded her throat.

"How can you tell?" The question shot out before he could stop it.

"Fox." She said simply. Of course her sense of smell was keen, she'd picked him up before he'd even gotten to her little village.

"I know, I forgot." He waved a hand dismissively. "So, why did you follow me? Afraid I'd leave before fulfilling the contract?" His eyes were cold, staring her down.

She shook her head, unable to speak. He frightened her. She couldn't look him in the eye, so instead she stared into her cup. "I wanted to explain myself, I think. You seemed so upset-"

"Fuck yeah I am. You never thought this might be information to tell a Witcher before? Oh hey mister monster killer, I happen to be a fucking monster!" He slammed his fist into the table.

"I'M NOT A MONSTER!" She shouted, frightened and enraged. "I have _never_ hurt a soul, never done anything to anyone. I didn't ask for _THIS_!" Her face was no longer the lovely face of Meadow the elf but a terrifying fox demon. "I hate this, I hate that I can easily kill those people, Ivan, anyone I wish. I _chose_ not to hurt anyone. If you have to kill me then do it, but I didn't come here for some sort of a showdown." She shook her head, changing made her skin tingle and she intensely disliked the feeling.

Lambert felt a twinge of guilt, which he wanted to stamp out with his boot. She hadn't actually done anything wrong. She told him what she was and didn't have to. She had _let_ him figure it out. Geralt had once talked about a woman he'd encountered on a boat. A group of sailors had nearly killed her pup and she successfully killed all of them. They died horribly, terrified. She let Geralt live because he saw her as a mother protecting her child, not a monster. Meadow may not have put up the notice but he knew she was likely the one paying for him.

"I shouldn't have come; I don't know why I did other than I wanted to say I was sorry I kept that from you. I lied to you, I'm sorry." She bowed her head and stood.

"Wait." He was still staring at the cup in his hand. She slowly took her seat again. Lambert finished his drink. "Why me?" He offered her more, she accepted.

She took a slow sip, planning her next words carefully. She caught him staring at her, waiting for her reaction. "You seem lost. I know that feeling well. I thought I could help you. The way Ivan helped me."

"Ivan know what you are?" Lambert looked shocked.

She nodded. "He rescued me from a hunters' trap." She showed him the horrific scar on her ankle. "Caught and nearly broke the bone. He took me home and nursed me back to health. I didn't have to tell him, I was a fox in the trap and a girl when I woke up the next morning. Gave him quite a scare. Ivan didn't mind, he had never seen one of my kind before. Said I looked like a girl so I might as well be one. Let me work at the tavern, I have a room above it." She took another sip of her drink.

Lambert mulled it over, taking a long drink. He looked at her, sighing heavily. "I'm not going to hurt you. I didn't even come here to take on any contracts, and yet you put that one up for that farm."

"Vineyard."

"What the fuck ever it is, you knew I wouldn't be able to say 'no, sorry, taking a break." He was conflicted, it wasn't that she was using him, she needed him. And she wasn't trying to sleep with him to get him to do this.

"I'm sorry, you're the only one capable that can stop this before someone else dies." She slumped in her chair. "I'm not using you, either." She grumbled. "I don't know how other creatures see it, but when someone thinks you're up to task it's a compliment to them."

He chuckled. She had him there. "Alright, I already said I'd do it." He stood up, took off his leather over coat. Meadow stared for a moment, he had scars everywhere. She wondered how he wound up with so many, and if they were all from monsters. He was well built, broad shoulders. She tore her eyes away from him, taking another drink. "I hate being a Witcher. I didn't ask for it, I was given to the School of the Wolf because my father couldn't afford the cost of a contract. He tossed me at this guy, said he wouldn't give him the goat…it was actually useful. Fucker." He glared down at his medallion. "But I am one, and a damn good one. Funny thing is, I don't think you and I are very different."

"That's terrible." She whispered, not looking at him. Her head was starting to feel a little fuzzy thanks to the strong liquor. "You don't seem useless." She chanced a glance at him. He was staring at her with an intensity that made her shudder.

"Don't I?" He growled out. "I was trained by one of the best, he died like a fucking bug. Crushed by someone bigger. I never got my vengeance and my father likely beat my mother to death. And there's Kiera. I don't mind being fucked, but I mind being thought of as too stupid to see what you're doing." He was standing in front of her.

Meadow's mouth went dry; he was close enough she could feel the heat coming off of him. She slowly got to her feet. "I've always been too curious, I never saw a real Witcher. Well, not this close. I couldn't help it, I wanted to know more about you." Her voice shook, barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was making it worse." She turned and started for the door.

Lambert caught her by the arm and spun her around. "No."

"I'm sorry I came, I just wanted to make it right." Her eyes were a beautiful crystal blue, shimmering in the candle light. Her pale pink dress hung off her shoulders and left her back bare. She smelled faintly of jasmine.

Meadow frowned at him, his hand still held her wrist. He gently rubbed his thumb over the inside of her wrist, loosening his grip and letting his fingertips slide down the back of her hand. She felt her breath catch in her throat as his fingers gently grazed her palm and trailed along her arm up to her elbow. Her eyes slid closed as he brought his other hand up to her face to cup her cheek. She sighed softly, pressing into his hand.

Lambert moved in close, his lips hovering over hers. "How can you possibly help me?" His voice was somewhat horse, his face inches from hers.

She stared up at him, fascinated. She brought her hand up to touch his face, tracing down a scar across his eye, tracing along his bottom lip. She felt him snap before he moved, his lips collided with hers a second later. She reacted immediately, her hands burying themselves in his hair, pulling him closer. His mouth molded perfectly to hers, he groaned softly as her tongue traced across his lips and allowed her entrance. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up easily to sit on the table. He brought his hands up to her delicate neck, running his fingers along her exposed shoulders and through her hair.

She broke away as his fingers began working her dress up her to her thighs. She nipped at his neck, tugging his shirt off. She gasped at his chest, he had scars all across his abdomen and along his arms, and his chest. She traced along one near his waist line, fingers leaving a trail of fire. He sucked in a breath as she moved lower, trying to untie his pants. He carefully lifted her by her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He took long, purposeful steps toward the stairs, roughly shoving her against the wall. She moaned as his lips found their way along her neck to her shoulder, leaving little red bite marks as he went. He moved up the stairs to the room he'd been using, throwing the door open, kicking it shut once they were inside. His fingers raked along her back, pulling her dress off with them. She let out a startled gasp as she hit the bed, his body weight coming down on her, grinding into her.

"Lambert…" She whimpered his name, tugging eagerly at his pants as he pulled her dress down her narrow hips.

He hovered over her, taking in her naked beauty. Her breast heaved as she struggled to maintain her breathing. His lips came down to her navel, moving slowly up her stomach and between her breasts. Her hands wrapped into his hair as she panted and sighed. His lips moved up along her left breast, his tongue tracing a slow circle around the pert nipple before slowly taking it into his mouth. She cried out as he did, arching her back into him. He moved to the other side, lips burning her as he went.

As he continued to tease her, she brought her delicate hands to his shoulders. She saw a myriad of scars, some healed nicely others were jagged and uneven. He slowly worked his way up to her shoulders, then her neck, until his was looking down at her. She brought a hand to his cheek, tracing the scar with her finger tips. His eyes closed for a moment as he leaned into the touch. Her lips brushed against his, kissing along his jawline to his ear, nipping him and earning herself a pleasant gasp from him. She smiled up at him, gently pushing him back off of her. He stood silently, his eyes never leaving hers. She moved to the edge of the bed, untying his pants and pulling them down. His eyes suddenly turned predatory as he moved toward her. She gave him a sly grin as she moved back onto the bed. He hooked one hand under her knee and the other caught her hip. He lunged forward with the grace of a big cat, pinning her to the bed.

He hovered over her, lips a breath away, watching her. She closed the space between them, kissing his lips, cheek, and nose. "Let go." She whispered, wrapping her legs again around his waist. "Trust me." He let go of a breath he hadn't known he was holding, kissing her roughly and he thrust to meet her. He groaned in pleasure against her lips, she whimpered and sighed. She bucked against him, eager to please. He buried his face in her neck, kissing and biting the skin, leaving his mark on her.

She made a sudden move to the right and he wound up on his back with her staring down at him with the eyes of a vixen. She began to move again, his hands shot to her hips as he matched her movements. He moaned as she moved faster, her hands prying his off her hips and intertwining her fingers with his. She was breathtaking above him, her body illuminated by the candle light, shimmering with perspiration. Her moans were intoxicating, he needed more. Her hair fell in soft curls around her body, over her shoulders and around her hips. He hadn't noticed it was so long, realizing that must be why she kept it pulled up.

Lambert closed his eyes and sighed, he felt the tension building in the pit of his stomach. He rose up suddenly, capturing her mouth in another searing kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her forehead resting against his. Suddenly it felt as if the world had fallen away, she moaned his name as she lost all control. He held her, and with a possessive growl he kissed her. He held her there, too strong for even her to break free, though she didn't try. She nestled her head into the crook of his shoulder. He gently lay back, pulling her with him.

For the first time in his life, Lambert was speechless. He hadn't planned on this happening. He didn't know what _this_ even was. She didn't stand to gain anything from it, he wasn't beholden to her for anything.

"You think too much." She whispered against his chest, her fingers tracing along the scars.

He chuckled softly, gently brushing hair out of her face. "I have never been accused of thinking too much." But he did. "It's been a shitty couple years, just fucked up." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, wondering if she'd leave while he slept.

"No, I don't plan to." He jerked back at that. "Not reading your mind, just body language. It's an animal thing." Her fingers found all of his old scars, and a few new ones. "Go to sleep, Lambert. You need it." His eyes were heavy, he was warm and comfortable.

He dreamt of Kaer Morhen, of Vesemir and training as a child. He was _always_ on his ass about something. But this was different, it was decades ago, before the mutations. He was just arriving at the keep for the first time. A dozen other young boys were already there. Geralt and Eskel were still young, Eskel didn't have the scars on his face from his cursed child. He was quiet, Geralt was cocky. But they were kind to him, in their way. Lambert wondered if they had known he'd be the only one to survive, or if Vesemir had thought he'd be one to fail and simply felt bad for him. As the years went on and he went through his training, he saw that Vesemir had taken care to discipline his rage, never to take it away. He felt the dream shift again, he was by the lake where he and Vesemir had built a small hut to keep fishing gear. He forgot that Vesemir had taught him to fish, to build a boat, and that when he was fed up with not catching anything he dropped a bomb in the water and collected his prize.

He remembered all those times he'd been so furious with him, for the pain and outright torture he'd had to endure to become this _thing_ that he hadn't wanted in the first place. The hatred he had for being the only one to survive. And for being the last. Kaer Morhen became a prison after that. He saw something, then, that he'd never noticed in all those long years and horrible winters at the keep. Vesemir lamenting over his inability to keep his children alive. He was fighting a dummy, yelling at it to fight back. The thing came apart, splintered wood flying in all directions as his sword slammed into it with impressive force. Lambert had been too hard on him. Vesemir had kept him alive during all those trials, he had been hardest on him because he must have seen it, that the others were too weak, too undisciplined. Lambert fought the hardest because he was angry, because his father had sold him instead of a fucking goat, and because his mother did nothing to stop it. Vesemir had taught him to be fury in battle and tempered when not. For all of his sarcasm and scathing remarks, Lambert was the most loyal and vicious Witcher to come out of Kaer Morhen, a talent he reserved for his brothers and the few that he trusted. His father died alone, but by then he wasn't even that anymore. He was just a man with a goat who couldn't stop the plague from killing him. Vesemir had died to save Ciri, who had become the first and last woman to be trained as a Witcher. She became family, the little sister he never had and who he now couldn't see his life without.

Lambert awoke to sunlight pouring in through the window, a warm breeze against his skin. He opened one eye, trying to figure out where he was and why it was so bright. He tried to sit up but a weight on his chest made him stop. He looked down, saw an arm draped over him. He followed it to the woman lying beside him, brown hair covering her almost to her hips. He smiled as he watched her sleep, tucking some of her unruly curls behind one shapely ear. She made a soft mewling sound as his fingers gently caressed her cheek.

Her eyes slid open, bright blue the color of the sky. She gave him a shy smile, not breaking eye contact as he leaned forward and gently kissed her. "How do you feel?" She asked as he pulled back.

"Lighter." He whispered, his forehead against hers. She kissed him again, pulling herself onto his lap. Her hair covered her, for the most part, she was strikingly beautiful as she sat above him like she had conquered him. "Didn't know you could do that, is that oneiromancy?"

She shook her head in the negative. "It's hard to explain, I can play against or with your strongest emotions. I can make people see what either terrifies or satisfies them. I know there's something eating you away, but you're different. Can't see it as clearly as a normal human." Her hands rested on his chest and she leaned forward, placing feather soft kisses up from her hands to his neck. "I can show you what your mind will hide from you, give you the truth."

He groaned appreciatively. "Is that what you meant by helping?" Her lips were trailing across his chest again to the other side of his neck, capturing his ear lobe in her teeth and gently tugging she giggled. "Is _this_ also you 'helping'?" He asked with a gasp as her soft hand moved lower, her fingers wrapping around him.

She leaned into him, her breath tickling his ear. "Yes." She whispered in a tone that left him wanting more. He let his hands wander over her, cupping her breasts and running his thumbs in small circles around her nipples. She moaned softly at his touch, positioning herself above him and driving him into her. They moaned in unison, she collapsed against his chest as he took in a ragged breath, his hands moving to her hips. He started slowly, moving against her in slow, rhythmic movements. She moaned each time he drove into her and whimpered as he left. He felt her release building all around him, her nails digging into his arms as she tried to move faster. He laughed lightly before capturing her mouth.

He kissed her and rolled her over onto her back. "Gods, would you just _move_!" She groaned, frustrated with his slow pace. He made a noise like a growl deep in his throat. His pace sped up and he let go, no longer in control of himself. She cried out his name like a prayer, all but screaming in ecstasy as she found her release. He wasn't far behind, holding her tight, every muscle taught and refusing to release her.

"Better?" He gasped as he tried to control his breathing. She smiled and nodded, pulling him down to kiss her.


	4. Chapter 4

Still don't own anything :) and still not sure where I'm going with this...

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It was around mid-day when he made his way out to the vineyard, Fiore Della Notte. It was an old vineyard, Ivan said it had been there for over a hundred years. The vines themselves were rare, and heavy with fruit. He could smell them from a half mile down the road. It had been about the time all the noise stopped. No bee's buzzing around him, no flies, no birds. His horse began dancing from hoof to hoof, snorting anxiously. It reared a few times, nearly unseated him too. He dismounted and sent the panicked animal away.

He could smell something, maybe a rotting corpse, or a nest of nechrophages. It was hard to tell, there was the sweet smell of death and something else…it burned his nose and made his eyes water. Any other man would have been doubled over, overcome with nausea by the sheer strength of it. Lambert pulled a strip of cloth from his pouch and poured a small amount of the killer whale potion on it before he tied it around his nose and mouth, buckthorne and white gull combined smelled worse than a weak old zeugel carcass. A trick Geralt taught him.

As he approached the main house he took stock of what he could see. The doors and windows were nailed shut, from the outside. There were dark brown hand prints by the main entrance and along the banister surrounding the patio. He noticed that there was a good sized hole just to the left of what appeared to be a cellar door, also smeared with the same dark brown mess. Even from where he stood he knew that was dried blood, he could smell it. Not human, something long dead but still somehow moving about.

' _Alghoul nest, here?'_ he moved closer, there were pieces of an alghoul scattered from the hole to the backside of the house. Maybe more than one, judging by the number of limbs. He crept up to the hole, a foul black slime covered one shredded leg of an alghoul.

His gut churned uneasily, he absentmindedly grabbed at his medallion. Something ancient and evil had been in that hole. Lambert backed away, taking all four of his grapeshot bombs he had on him and wrapped them together. He lit the fuse and tossed them down the hole. It would slow whatever the hell was down there, but it wouldn't stop it from digging itself out again.

The explosion caused a small sink hole to cave in a few yards ahead of him. The realization that there was a tunnel system of some sort below him was disheartening. He moved on to the house, as he got closer he could see thin fibers and sticky webbing. Spider webs, hundreds of them, covering the walls, door, boarded up windows. They were all over the house, as if they'd been drawn to it.

"Fuck me, I _hate_ spiders!" He nearly turned around then and walked away. For a second he absolutely hated Meadow and Ivan. Sly bastard let her put that damn notice up. He pried off the boards blocking the door and tried to push it open, crushing a few of the arachnids as they fell. "Blocked both sides…how the fuck do you even _do_ that?" He channeled aard and blew the door apart. Inside a child shrieked and bolted, throwing a candelabra at him and two butter knives. She ran up the stairs, screaming hysterically. The sound was shrill enough to hurt his ears.

Lambert cautiously followed her, not sure if she would even hear him if he tried to speak to her. She had hidden in her bedroom, on the other side of the massive bed. He quickly picked up the smell of fear and urine. "I'm not going to hurt you…I'm here to get you out of here." She whimpered as he came closer. "I am a Witcher, Meadow and Ivan sent me to help you."

At the mention of Meadow, or Ivan, she slowly poked her head up from behind the bed, too terrified to speak. Lambert got down on his knees and bowed his head, as if he were meditating, hoping a non-threatening pose would encourage the child to come closer. Slowly, the girl crept closer to him. She was arm's length from him by the time his amulet began to move. He glanced up in time to see her face. Pretty green eyes, dark circles beneath them, a dainty nose, and a mouth full of serrated teeth. "FUCK!" Lambert shot to his feet, narrowly dodging her jagged claws. She screamed in rage, lunging for him again. _'What the fuck_ is _that?!'_ He drew silver, spinning toward her with incredible speed. He dodged, parried, and struck. Her skin made a disgusting hissing sound when he made contact and she shrieked in pain. She moved faster than anything he'd fought before. He managed to deflect her long claws with his sword, chipping the blade. He was hardly able to block her attacks, let alone fight back. _'Well that just figures.'_

He felt a subtle gust of wind, but with no doors or windows open it was impossible. The creature flew at him only to be caught mid leap by long talons, effectively shredding the neck and removing the head. Lambert gave himself a quick pat down, making sure none of his limbs had wound up in the gore before him.

"She was in the process of being cured, so to speak. Orianna had been trying to lift the curse, which it appears she failed." Lambert eyed the man before him. "I apologize for my timing. I had not thought anyone would have responded so soon."

"Regis, if you weren't a fucking vampire I would hug you right now." Lambert stood stiffly. "How the hell did _she_ happen?"

"Orianna has had several children turn, if you will. They are cursed, not unlike a striga, however conventional methods have been ineffective in lifting the curse or even slowing them down. It would have been a kindness to kill this one, however Orianna is often of a singular mind." Regis shook the chunks of brain and bone from his hand. Lambert felt his stomach twist as the organic matter made a sickening _plop_ when it hit the floorboards.

"She need the blood of children _so fucking bad_ she will drink a…whatever _that_ was?" Lambert was both repulsed and confused. "That can't be healthy…it's cursed blood."

"I am aware." Regis had a look that made Lambert wish Geralt and Eskel were there. "I'm afraid it isn't just children that are affected. An ekimmara went rabid, attacked another higher vampire in his crypt and killed him with unusual ease."

Now he really wanted to leave, burn Corvo Blanco down, take Meadow and run. "This sounds fucked." He groaned and rubbed his face wearily. "I only lasted two minutes against her and she didn't look like a fucking monster. She looked like a damn kid with knives for teeth!" Lambert felt himself nearing hysterics, which he felt was absolutely fine given the circumstances. Regis disagreed.

The sting of the Vampire's hand connecting with his face hurt worse than he'd expected. "Honestly, you're supposed to be immune to fear, _Witcher_." His voice dripped with disapproval and contempt.

"Blow me! I'm done, this is _way_ beyond a simple monster hunt. You have the making of a Gods damned plague." Lambert whirled around, intent on storming out only to storm directly into Regis. "What the hell, Regis!" He shoved him roughly out of the way and continued down the stairs.

"I need your help, Lambert, and you know how reticent I am to say as much." He stood at the top of the stairs. "Orianna's proclivities' may not be to your liking, but she is a dear friend. I wouldn't ask this of you if I had any other means of helping her." Lambert kept his back to him, wishing he'd never left Kaer Morhen.

"Fine." He went to the door, looking out at the empty vineyard. He wondered where she'd hid all those bodies, or if she'd eaten the bones. "We're going to need help, Regis."

"I will go and collect Geralt, perhaps Yennefer will not mind parting with him for a short while." Regis spoke softly, eloquent as ever.

Lambert chuckled. "I meant Yennefer, Regis." Regis nodded silently. "You do know he will try to kill her, right?"

"I am counting on that." The enigmatic vampire was gone as quickly as he'd appeared.

Lambert walked outside, noting that the spiders had begun to flee their webs, whatever it was that compelled them now gone. He jumped forward with a shudder of disgust before using igni to light the house on fire. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. All those workers, the twins Meadow thought were sweet, all the people who supposedly lived here had vanished in a matter of days. He made his way back to Corvo Blanco, forgoing a night at Ivan's tavern. He needed to clear his head.

* * *

He had taken a seat out in the garden, enjoying the cool night air and the pleasant scent of the flowers. The copious amounts of alcohol he'd consumed over the last several hours had helped mellow his mood. Being a Witcher had many drawbacks, one of which being it took an awful lot of strong liquor to get drunk. Either that or he had God like tolerance. By the time the sky grew dark he was just inebriated enough to enjoy the quiet evening. He counted stars, caught flower petals in little quen signs and tossed them in the air, lit the candles and put them out again.

"Bored?" He jumped at the sound of her voice. Apparently he was further gone than he'd thought.

"Quite." He couldn't help but smile. She walked up the path, a small candle in hand to light her way. He couldn't tell what color her dress was this time, orange, white, yellow, he really didn't care. She still smelled of jasmine and incense. "Care to join me? I am…not really sure what I'm doing, other than drinking, a little."

Meadow laughed lightly as she sat beside him. The ground was soft and cool but he was warm. She took in the smell of leather and clove, curling up beside him and resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. "You, sir, are fairly drunk."

"Indeed." He agreed. He closed his eyes, trying to hold onto that moment, willing time to stop right then and let him have this for a little longer. He moved to get up but she stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"Not yet…please." He settled back and pulled her closer. "I know it didn't go well, I saw the smoke from the Tavern." She spoke softly, clearly saddened by the turn of events, holding him tighter.

Lambert leaned over and kissed her head, nuzzling against her soft hair. They stayed that way until the moon had risen directly over them. He could feel her shivering and decided to go inside. He stood first and offered her a hand up, gently tugging her behind him. They made their way inside and up to his room.

With a lazy wave of his hand a fire sparked to life in the fireplace. "No one was there. There was a…well, there was a monster but no bodies. I'm not sure what happened." He frowned at the fireplace. "I'm sorry." He whispered as she stood silently beside him.

She stood, staring at his boots. She wasn't upset, not in the way he thought she would have been. She looked angrier than he'd thought she would have been, or maybe he'd only expected sorrow. "What kind of monster?" Her voice had an eerie growl, sort of how he imagined a dog might sound if it tried to speak. There was barely contained fury in her glare.

"It was a vampire but she was…I don't know, rabid maybe? It was hard to tell. I've never seen one like this before." He hesitated, wary of her sudden change in demeanor. "Did you know she was there? Is that what it was you couldn't fight off?" He moved closer, trying to calm her and rubbing her arms gently. She closed her eyes and nodded. "I didn't even know she was there, she didn't have a scent or markings. She looked like a little girl."

Meadow shuddered and whimpered. "Those poor people." She leaned her head into his chest. "I should have made them leave."

Lambert wrapped her in his arms. "There's no way you could have fought whatever that was. If Regis hadn't shown up when he did _I_ would be dead. She was fast and strong…and ruthless."

Meadow let out another low whine, tears flowing down her cheeks as she wept. "They were my responsibility; I should have protected them better."

Lambert found her odd in every capacity, but this behavior...her anger at the loss of a few humans, it was all very unlike a monster. He'd seen some strange behaviors out of monsters before but nothing like this. Her kind were notorious for stealing unguarded elven children, female children, and turning them. They corrupted men, turned their minds to madness and rage. Killing was their specialty, but she was different. He knew how dangerous just one could be. All manner of forest creature was at their beck and call. Eskel had killed one decades ago, and it was a fight he refused to speak of. He'd said only that, in the end, he wasn't sure who had done more damage. Geralt had agreed, grateful the one he met had not seen the need to kill him. But then again, Geralt always felt a kinship to monsters. Lambert just couldn't wrap his head completely around this ones' need to save the people of this small village.

"Meadow, there isn't much you could have done to stop that thing from killing them." He whispered.

"You don't know what I am capable of, Witcher." She pulled back. "When Ivan found me I was running away from what I was. I despise the thing I am almost as much as I loathe humanity. I don't fit in with anything but the forest." She climbed into the bed, wrapping herself in a warm blanket. "I have killed humans before all this, long before I met Ivan. I used to live in the forests near Vizima. I hunted the men who fled the emperor and his army, and the unwary villager." Her eyes shown with a terrible sadness…and guilt. "A family lived deep in the woods, they left food for me though I am quite sure they thought I was some lone wolf."

Lambert pulled up a chair, watching her intently. Meadow curled further into the blanket, staring intently at her hands as she spoke

"It was the first rain of spring. A group of deserters happened on them…and I watched. They killed him first, didn't say a word just cut him down. The children were in the woods playing, unaware. One of the men caught their mother, beat her with his fists until she stopped trying to run away. I had never hurt them, I loved them. I protected the children when they played and her man on his hunts." She smiled sadly up at him. "The Leshen of those woods let them live, let the children see him and play with the wolves. Even the crows were fond of them, and they are a finicky bunch. A simple family living a simple life. They respected the creatures there, loved them even." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Those men beat and raped her until she could no longer scream, until she stopped moving. It isn't in our nature to protect our prey, but those children were _ours_. One of the men caught the youngest, a little girl of five summers. He broke her arm just by lifting her with it." Meadow shook her head, forcing her body to stay under her control. Lambert could see her canines gleaming in the firelight and noticed her ears had become longer and capped with soft white fur. "Her screams hurt my ears, made my blood boil. I can still hear her now. I killed the man who held her first and with my hands, I killed several as I took her away through the forest." She held up her hands, now tipped with long black claws. "I took her and ran back to the forest, slow enough for them to follow but too fast to catch. I lead them to my guardian, to _my_ Leshen. There will never be a night I don't hear them scream for their mothers, to their Gods', begging for death."

Lambert eyed her for a moment, mulling over her story. "Maybe I don't get it, but it seems like you saved the brats and killed the people who deserved it."

"No, I'm not finished. The Leshen did kill them, but in my blind panic to save the little girl I had killed her brother. You see, we are a predatory creature and our maternal instincts are focused and unbreakable. In my rage he became a threat…and I tore out his throat. He couldn't have had more than a dozen summers to his name. I don't even _know_ his name. I only know Illandra. She died of a broken heart by the third night. Fearing me and her own mortal existence proved too much for the little thing. I ran, for months or years. Hid in one village or another. I don't take children; I don't even protect them. I am a killer. I promised I would protect these people and I didn't. I knew there was something wrong and I did nothing."

Lambert moved toward her. She shied from his touch, her eyes had a feral gleam. "You did not kill them, Meadow." He spoke softly, neither backing away nor moving any closer. "It wasn't on the whim of some God. It wasn't human vengeance. It was a monster, and a broken one at that." She met his gaze, whimpering as she moved toward him. Slowly Lambert pulled her up against him, leaning back against the wall. "You are not a monster." He held her until she fell asleep, gently running his fingers through her hair.

He stayed with her until dawn. He was conflicted, not a feeling he was unaccustomed to but one he didn't like dealing with. He could kill her, and looking down at the woman sleeping in his arms it would have been simple. He had her trust and could snap her neck, cut her down before she could comprehend what had changed. And then there was the conflict. She was, in form, a woman and in nature a monster, but she didn't behave the way he had heard they did. She didn't behave like most _humans_ he'd encountered. She was more or less the same as he was, running from the darkness and torment of her past and into an even more uncertain future. He could understand blind rage, panic, killing because there was no other choice. He'd done it. Now he slept with the very thing that made his existence and the existence of others like him necessary. The line between Witcher and Monster was beyond blurred, it was nearly gone. She _was_ a vixen, but she was not a monster.

Lambert absently kissed the crown of her head, slipping away unnoticed. He needed to clear his head and in his experience that meant training. Mindlessly running through the drills from his youth, pushing his body to its breaking point...and beyond. He grabbed his swords and a bag with the essentials and left.


	5. Chapter 5

**YAY! I'm glad a few people like it :) I know I'm morphing Lambert a bit here, sorry. As usual, I own nothing. Well, Meadow...which is a cheesy name but I was at a loss. Foxes...meadows...meh. Enjoy and thank you for the reviews :D**

 **OoOoOoO**

Lambert had been training hard for the last two days and a night knowing Geralt and Yennefer would be at the vineyard any time. He was worried about them finding Meadow, so he asked her to leave. It hadn't been easy and she hadn't taken it well, which he understood. It was about as possible to control a maelstrom as it would have been to try and control Yennefer, and a confrontation between her and Meadow could only end badly.

Looking down at his hands, now raw from beating the wooden dummies he'd set up, knuckles bruised and bleeding. He felt a twinge of guilt. He wanted her there, wanted to see her and touch her and remember how it felt to be warm. Wherever Meadow was he felt oddly peaceful. He found it strange that he, of all people, wanted to protect a monster. He had killed countless monsters, men, and even women, and didn't bat an eye. He had been overwhelmed by a seething hatred, was bitter and resentful of most of his life. Meadow made all of that seem small and far away.

' _So I really have to stay away from here? From you?' Lambert nodded, not looking at her. He couldn't, it would undo his resolve and he would hold her there. 'I understand, but how long? Will you come see me?' He saw her putting on a brave face and swallowing her pride to try and accept whatever answer he gave her. He kissed her. Not with the hunger he seemed to be utterly consumed by when she was near him, but with a gentleness that surprised even him._

' _You wouldn't believe just how hard this is for me, or how unfucking believably out of my element I am.' He pulled her close to him. 'I don't know how long this will take, but I will make damn sure I find time for you.' He cupped her cheek, noting her eyes shifting colors. When she was worried they changed from a clear blue to a startling greenish tint that reminded him of the tumultuous seas of Skellige._

Since Ciri's return and subsequent defeating of the white frost, there had been an influx of monsters. Some of them seemed more aggressive, driven to kill. Seeing that vampire creature, Regis, and learning that Orianna had been trying to find a way to cure the madness that had taken the lesser vampires. She had trapped an Ekimara to try and observe its behavior. She hoped it would give her some insight as to what was happening. Regis was furious with her, she'd done this experiment of hers alone and it had nearly cost her life. The creature tore its way through her cage, breaking limbs, fatally wounding itself just to get to her. She was able to hold it off long enough for Regis to intervene, but by then it was too late. All it took was one bite, and this thing had taken several out of her. She realized then it was transferable.

In a matter of days she was babbling nonsense, killing anything she could feed on. She begged Regis to kill her before her mind was completely gone. He put her in a cage in Tesham Mutna and went to see Lambert before heading out to get Yennefer and Geralt. He was more than a little worried when the little one cropped up, he'd thought he'd gotten rid of them all. Lambert had been practicing hard, training for a fight he hoped wouldn't happen. Orianna wasn't some Bruxa, she was a powerful higher vampire. He wasn't sure that even with his help they would be _able_ to kill her.

It was noon and Lambert had just finished washing up when Meadow appeared in the doorway, though not as the woman he knew but a beautiful red fox. Her head cocked to one side and she made a small chirp like sound. He stared for a moment, drying his face and throwing the towel over his shoulder. He flexed his knuckles, wincing slightly.

"Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks." He went to put the towel down and picked up his shirt.

"Don't." He turned slowly around, she smiled from the doorway. "I rather like the view." She grinned impishly at him, her cheeks tinged pink.

He closed the distance between them in three steps, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I don't know when they will be here, I'm surprised they aren't already." He pulled back, bringing a hand up to gently cup her cheek, looking her over with a grin. "How are you?"

Just as she opened her mouth to speak he kissed her, driven completely by impulse. He held her there, forehead pressed to hers. She gasped in surprise. "I'm fine…" She whispered, her voice unsteady.

Lambert lifted her into his arms with startling ease. She gasped and instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist to steady herself. His hands seemed to be everywhere, in her hair, on her back, cupping her backside, his lips never leaving hers. She held him, sighing and gasping as his lips trailed down her neck. She managed to pull herself together enough to get his attention.

"Lambert…stop." He jerked away, giving her a hurt look.

"Stop?!" She wanted to laugh at his wounded expression. "But why? They aren't here _yet_." He moved in to kiss her again.

"Gods, Lambert…" She sighed his name, which seemed to make it harder to get his attention this time. "We are in the entry way! They will see me naked!"

"Mhm." He continued to kiss down her neck to her shoulder, slipping her dress off one shoulder.

Meadow had to force herself to make him stop. Shoving him roughly off of her, she laughed. "I'll not have my first encounter with them both be me in a compromising situation." She slid off the table and walked toward his room. "Are you staying down here?" She winked at him as she made her way up the stairs.

"Fuck yeah." He mumbled at followed her up to the bedroom.

They lay together for a long while, the sun had started to set and he had sparked a fire to life. She traced lazy circles down his arm as her head lay on his chest, humming softly to herself. He held her, resting his eyes and listening to the sound of her heart beating. It had been so long since he'd actually been content that he'd forgotten how it felt. Now that he had it he knew he'd never let it go, no matter the consequence. This was _his_ and he would kill anyone who came between them.

It was a subtle snort from his horse, a whinny…and an answering call. Lamberts eyes shot open. "They're here." He whispered, slightly worried. "Guess he will be meeting you after all."

Meadow paled "No! What if he tries to kill me? Or that sorceress does? You said-!" Lambert hushed her, smoothing her hair back, gently caressing her cheek.

"You will be fine, just stay with me. Stay calm." He reassured her, helping her sit up. "It's going to be fine, besides you're here and so are they. Now we have to face it." She huffed, resting her head against his bare chest. "Also, my shirt is still down there."

"You only have one shirt?" She glanced up from his chest, a small grin playing at the corners of her mouth.

He chuckled and it melted her worries. "No, I have more than one but I wanted to wear that one."

"Mhm…you don't have another one to wear, do you?" She sat up with a wry smile.

"As a matter of fact, I don't. I'm between extra shirts at the moment." That got her to laugh, and it made him smile to see her happy. He reached behind her a picked up a shirt. "Har har, I have more than one shirt." He pulled it on, sliding out of the bed to pull on a pair of trousers. She slid into her dress and quickly braided her hair. Lambert brought a hand up and playfully flicked an ear.

"Really?" She swatted his hand away, protecting her pointed ears from an onslaught of flicks and pokes.

"Lambert? Where are you?" Geralt called, startling both of them.

He kissed her. "Be brave and stay with me, ok?" She nodded and took his hand as he shouted down to Geralt. "On my way down."

Geralt and Yennefer stood in the doorway mumbling about something magic related. She turned and gaped at them. "I believe I found our culprit." Her violet eyes narrowing in on Meadow.

"Huh, I wouldn't have pegged you for a fan of foxes." Geralt gave Lambert a smirk.

Lambert scoffed. "She's not Merigold, that bitch can stay the fuck out of any conversation relating to me." He gestured rudely to his friend. "Didn't know you could sense her." He absently fiddled with his medallion.

Yennefer cautiously moved forward. "Are you going to introduce her or should I..?"

Meadow crept out from behind Lambert, eyes darting between the Witcher and his Sorceress. "I am Meadow." Yennefer snorted at the name.

"A fox named Meadow, that's rather quaint. I am Yenn-" Meadow ducked back behind Lambert.

"I know who you are, I've read about both of you." She clung to his shirt, trembling. "Seeing you is an entirely different thing."

Lambert turned to face her, taking her hands in his and smiling down at her. "It's ok. They're not going to hurt you." His thumb gently traced over the back of her small hand.

Geralt moved forward, gently tugging Yennefer back. "You aren't exactly the most welcoming sight, Yen. Let the girl breathe." Meadow chanced a glance at the white haired man. He gave her a warm smile as he pulled the woman in black away. "Regis said there was something strange going on. Something about rabid vampires. Can that be right?"

Lambert's gaze dropped to the floor, worry nagging at him in the worst way. "It is, and it's so much worse than a plague. Kiera could have solved this one if that were the case. Something is _wrong_ with them."

Meadow yipped suddenly, jerking her hands free of Lambert. In the blink of an eye she was in fox form and dashing out the front door. Lambert spun around to try and catch her. Regis stood in the door way, watching the little fox sprint toward the Tavern. "I must have frightened the poor thing." He gave a nonchalant shrug. "I need you all to come with me. Something new has happened to Orianna and I am in need of your help."

Geralt tensed at the mention of the woman. "Might be best if I stayed, have a hard time letting a monster that feeds on children live." His voice came out as more of a growl.

Lambert and Yennefer nodded silently. "That may be, Geralt, but we need to see what we're up against. No time for your crisis of faith now." She moved to follow Regis. Lambert followed suit, grabbing his armor and swords on the way. Geralt groaned and followed.

"We're going to Tesham Mutna, be quick about it." Regis vanished in a cloud of smoke and mist.

Yennefer opened a portal. "In you go." She smirked, motioning to the portal.

Geralt sighed heavily. "Can't we just ride there?"

"No, that would take time we don't have. Get in there." She walked through followed by Lambert. Geralt shook his head woefully and followed.

The ruins were dark and foreboding. Lambert suppressed a shudder of revulsion. Vampire hunters once roamed the halls of the fortress, torturing lesser and higher vampires. While he wasn't necessarily opposed to killing monsters, he'd learned that not all monsters were created equal, like Meadow or Regis. Some were truly horrifying, but then so were some people.

"I really fucking hate this place, Geralt. I'm starting to think you sent me here to punish me." Lambert kicked at a rotted board out of his way. "I just wanted to get away from all of this, now I'm neck deep in the shit."

"Oh do quit your incessant whining, Lambert. You're a grown man, more or less." She walked past them toward the entrance. "We must see what happened to Regis' friend."

Lambert mocked her, pulling a face as he fell in behind her. Geralt rolled his eyes and shoved Lambert forward. "Don't let her get to you, Lambert."

They made their way down to what was presumably the dungeon. There was a large cage suspended from the ceiling, a frail woman held within rambling and tittering restlessly. Her auburn hair matted and hanging limply around her shoulders. She would stop her rantings to sing a few lyrics from an old Lullaby and go back to shifting and cackling.

"This is what happened after the creature attacked her. It took several days for her to deteriorate to this point. Thankfully it seems she's sunk as far as she can into this madness. Do you recognize the song, Geralt?" Regis began to lower the cage. As he did Orianna began to shriek in earnest.

"The Lullaby of Woe, song was common once." He cast a wary eye up as she descended. "You sure she can't get out?" Regis nodded. "What do you think, Yen?"

Yennefer produced a ball of white energy, subduing the woman. "I have no idea, as far as I'd heard Vampires were immune to any sort of disease."

"We are." Regis sat on a large stone directly before the cage. Orianna cooed and chittered as she watched him through hazy opaque blue eyes. "Ever since that conjunction and Ciri crossing over there has been a rash of bizarre monster deaths."

"Old crrrk-old…eyesss eyes dark. Shut your eyes, polly…" Orianna locked eyes with Geralt, though he wasn't quite sure she could _see_ him. She seemed blind and mad.

"What kind of deaths?" Yennefer didn't take her eyes off the creature, walking around her carefully as she examined her. "Look at this, Geralt. Bite marks haven't healed." Yennefer motioned to three sets of horrendously infected bites on her back and arm. "Another vampire did this."

"As I said she was trying to examine one of our lesser kin." Regis reached for her, finger tips nearly to the cage when she shrieked and lashed out with impossibly long claws, nearly catching his hand before he withdrew.

"No…not these ones. These bear the markings of a higher vampire, two puncture marks where the fangs are, as though she willingly submitted to them. The others here, and over by her neck are more like a katakan or ekimmara. More like the mouth of a beast, but they've healed."

"I know that smell…" Lambert leaned in, taking a hesitant whiff. "It was all over the Fiore vineyard. Along with parts of a few Alghouls." He started toward the walls of the room. "No spiders."

"No, not typically in a place like this. Nothing to eat, too far away from the surface." Regis watched the younger witcher curiously.

"There were thousands on that other house, Regis. All kinds, sizes, most that wouldn't normally come within a hundred yards of one another. No bugs at all here, she doesn't have the same thing that girl did." He strained to see up to any tunnels that had collapsed above them. "There! That slime was at the entrance of some cave system out there, smelled awful enough I thought it was the necrophages."

Regis glanced up and found where he was pointing. He scrambled up the side of the wall and carefully plucked a rock with the ooze out of the hole before dropping to the ground with ease. "Here, will this assist you?" Yennefer waved a glowing hand over it.

"That's blood, Regis. Full of magic and very old." Geralt and Regis started in the same moment.

"No…" Geralt walked to Yennefer, both afraid and furious. "That _thing_ was supposed to stay and guard its damned doorway."

"What thing, Geralt?" Yennefer asked impatiently.

"We call him the Unseen One. The oldest of all vampires, more powerful than anything you could ever hope not to find." Regis backed away from the rock, his complexion paler than ever before. "This is truly a terrible turn of events."

Lambert watched as Orianna seemed to cower from them. "She knows what left that." He nodded toward her quivering in her cage.

"If only she could speak." Regis lamented.

Yennefer tapped the amulet on her choker. "I might be able to clear her up for a few moments, if the problem is magic I can drain some of it from her for a time."

"But?" Regis didn't bother to look away.

Yennefer sighed. "I've never done anything like that before or with something in this state, it could kill her or seriously wound her."

Geralt sat quietly observing Regis as he mulled it over.

"Forgive me, my friend." He whispered before walking toward the sorceress. "Do it, just make it quick." Yennefer nodded and began casting a spell.

Orianna screamed in pain and rage as black ooze began to pour from her ears, nose, eyes, and mouth. She wailed until she could coherently scream for them to stop. Yennefer held the magic field around her, suspending the torment for the moment. "Regis! God's you have to get out of here!"

"Why, Orianna? What's happening?" Regis rushed to her side, taking her hands in his. "Please, how do we help you?"

"You can't, he's been _feeding_ on me. My body is rotting…" She groaned, holding her head. "Make it stop, please." She whimpered. Geralt felt true pity for her, not because she was Regis' friend and lover, but to see something so powerful beg for mercy was wrong.

"No, I cannot. I must help you, if there is a chance let me find a way." He pleaded with her. She let out a small whimper, tightening her grip on his hands.

"You don't have much time. The Elder One has tired of this world and the people within, once he is whole again every living thing will perish. He is draining my life to sustain his own, and soon he will come for you. I can feel him in my head and under my skin, Regis. You can't let me go, I will kill you." Her voice took on a panicked tone. "You can't go near him, he'll control you! If you die we all die…" Her voice broke off.

Yennefer struggled to hold the spell, sweat pouring down her face. Lambert moved quickly to support her when she could no longer stand. "I can't…I can't keep it up, Regis."

He nodded solemnly. "Sleep now, sweet Orianna. I shall come for you one way or another." He kissed her finger tips and stepped away. Yennefer dropped the spell and Orianna shrieked in pain, and if Geralt wasn't mistaken there was a fair amount of anguish in there as well. She slumped over, breathing ragged…but still breathing.

"You ok?" Lambert let Yennefer put an arm around his shoulders to steady herself. She nodded, taking a few deep breaths before making for the exit.

"We need to leave here now. I will seal this room and hopefully keep her safe." Yennefer shook her head. "I just need a moment to rest."

A sudden noise near the entrance to the room caught everyone off guard. Lambert moved quickly to block Yennefer, silver sword drawn. Geralt drew his blade as Regis' claws grew to blades of their own.

"I can help." A small voice called from behind a rock. "My kind are masters of illusion and deception, even against one of _you_." She shot a wary glance at Regis.

"Well, you little shit. You followed us here?" Lambert wasn't sure if he was amused or pissed. Meadow shrugged and nodded, not meeting his eyes.

"She _is_ correct. There has been an ages old conflict where my kind came from, between the Aguara and the Higher Vampires. It was once our young they stole away. Their connection to the realm of magic is beyond what any sorceress could achieve, Yennefer notwithstanding." Regis approached Meadow slowly. "I would appreciate your help, dear." She nodded and slowly made her way down to the group.

Meadow closed her eyes, concentrating on an image in her head. "You should leave, you may become trapped within the illusion." Lambert hesitated, ready to argue that he'd stay with her. "No, you can't. You might not find your way out. I'll see you up there, trust me." Lambert nodded with a frown and followed the others out. Meadow pulled from the darkest part of her being and beyond.

As Regis and Geralt walked out into the courtyard beyond the entrance to the ruined tower there was a rumble followed by a deep bellow. The ground shook and there was suddenly the strong stench of death. A massive head with a sizable pair of mandibles erupted from the ground not ten feet from where they stood. The pale scales and reaching legs gave even Yennefer pause.

"That's a White Widow, she shouldn't attack if we keep our distance." Regis cautiously took a step back.

Yennefer pulled on her magic, pushing against the creature. "It's real." She whispered to Geralt. He stood between her and the bug. "It caused a minor cave in, enough to block the entrance."

Lambert spun around to see for himself. He ran toward the doorway, pulling at the rocks. "Meadow was still down there!" He was frantic, every stone he moved sent another into his path. He let out a frustrated groan, blasting the doorway with aard with no effect. He punched at the rocks in rage and nearly jumped out of his skin when an arm shot out of the rocks back at him. "FUCK!" He fell back on his haunches, scrambling backwards. Meadow followed the arm through the rocks.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." She laughed softly, speaking just over a whisper as she started back toward the vineyard. Yennefer was about to open a portal when she stopped her. "You could wind up at the vineyard or in the deepest part of the ocean…or worse." Yennefer nodded and continued on without a word.

Regis sidled up to Meadow. "Thank you, little one." He whispered gently. She nodded and said nothing, walking quietly behind Lambert.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the delay :) Between writers block and a stupid monster that took off on me I've been at a loss. Some smut at the end because...well, when all else fails. Also, I've been working on this chapter for a while so I know it has errors, just might take me a bit to find them all. Sorry in advance.**

The response to their meddling had been as swift as it was furious. When a messenger had arrived three days after Meadow had blockaded the Unseen from getting to Oriana, Yennefer had reservations. She stood between Geralt and the door, and in an entirely uncharacteristic approach, pleaded with him not to leave.

"You fool of a Witcher, I _know_ what is waiting for you there!" She, to her credit, didn't scream. Still calm as ever, but even Lambert could see the terrible fear in her eyes. "You two idiots have finally picked a fight you can't win."

"I can't leave Regis, Yen. I can't just _let_ this thing roam free, killing everyone and everything in its path. Eventually, that means you and me. I prefer now." His eyes fixed on her as he droned on in his eerily calm tone.

Lambert stayed quiet, leaning against the wall behind them. He hadn't seen or heard from Meadow since the morning after they'd returned. True to form, he neglected to mention this to Geralt or Yen. He had fears, reservations, he was in complete agreement with Yennefer. A first that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"You are too proud to back down, you can't hope to kill it. It's older than all of us combined, the conjunction was over two thousand years ago… _and it's still alive!_ " There it was, the shouting, frothing rage, of the only woman in the world that could frighten Lambert. He hated himself for that, but that damn sorceress had fiends running for the hills.

"Do you think Eskel can be reached?" He spoke up, flexing his hands in the leather gloves. "Or Merigold, Kiera even?" He did his best to contain the sneer at either of their names.

"Already done, they will be here by nightfall." She glared back at Lambert. "How in the hell did you get into this mess?!" Her violet eyes seemed almost black with fury. He could see the attack coming, knew what she would say, and was still surprised by how he felt about it. "All because little Lambert had to fuck an Aguara. You ignorant fucking moron!" He did dodge when she sent a bolt of electricity at his head, burning the wall. "It's as if you completely forgot everything Vesemir taught you; her kind are the _**most**_ dangerous of all the conjunction creatures and you took her to your bed…I do hope it was to your _liking_." She seethed, her tone full of saccharine sweet hatred.

"Oh, _fuck you_!" Lambert roared back, reaching for the steel blade at his back. "You… _ **YOU**_ are the most dangerous thing to come out of the conjunction. You have my brother, and every cocksucker between here and The Dragon-fucking-mountains crawling up your skirt, falling all over themselves for _you_. You _use_ us, tried to kill us more than once, you treat him like a fucking tool, an errand boy for all your whims, and don't even fucking get me started on how unfuckingbelievably manipulative and twisted _**you**_ are." His golden eyes burned into her, teeth bared like a wild animal. "How many people have _you_ killed, witch?" He shoved her hard enough to knock her to the ground, storming out of the room. Geralt tried to stop him, putting himself between his brother and the exit. Lambert, as it turned out, hit a hell of a lot harder than a rock troll.

"Well done, Yen." Geralt glared at her and rubbed his jaw while she sat in shock on the floor. "You never did know when to stop with him." He held out a hand, she slapped it away. "I know you're worried, but this isn't his fault. We sent him here."

"We did not send him here in the hopes he would unleash hell!" She immediately shot back.

"That's a little dramatic even for you, Yen. I'm saying, we sent him here to deal with Vesemir, The Hunt, Kiera…all of it. This little fox isn't the reason this is happening." Geralt decided if she wouldn't stand, he'd sit.

Yennefer frowned and pulled her knees to her chest. "I am not using you..." She grumbled. Geralt chuckled. "It is not funny, Geralt. I know I've done awful things in the past, but I am _not_ using you."

"Of course not, Yen. You have to admit, though, he's not completely wrong." Yennefer gave him a dark glare, fury burning bright in her eyes. "You can't scare me." He laughed lightly, putting an arm around her shoulders. "I do think-" She gave him a derisive snort. "Don't laugh…I think Meadow has become rather enamored with Lambert, which is an oddity in itself, but it is unheard of for her kind to seek, well…" He waved his hand in a vague gesture, earning another chuckle from Yennefer.

"So you're saying her sexual interest in Lambert is strange? I couldn't agree more." She stood and dusted herself off.

Geralt rose to his feet with a smirk, turning Yennefer to look at him. "Do you remember that contract I took a few years back? I had to help those merchants find that elf woman's daughter and it turned out she'd been taken by an Aguara?"

"Yes." Yennefer's eyes narrowed at him. Almost all of his contracts ended with a 'bonus' of sorts, this had been no different.

"I didn't sleep with her." He deadpanned. "I mention it to point out how different Meadow is. She separated herself from her kind. It's said that once they're changed they have no memory of their past lives. Part of why no mother of a child stolen by an Aguara has ever pursued them. Aside from being nearly impossible to catch, invulnerable to most weapons and any poison, _and_ they can distort reality." He tiredly rubbed his cheeks. "Meadow has been with Ivan for a long while, if she was going to kill anyone she would have. She could have taken off with any one of the elven children in that village, she _should_ have killed Lambert on sight…if for no other reason than he would pose a threat to her."

Yennefer considered it for a moment. "Why does she stay with Ivan and his wife?"

"He said he found her caught in a hunter's trap, cast from dimeritium." Geralt shrugged. "She wouldn't have been able to change her shape to get free so she would have appeared every bit the injured fox. Ivan had said he felt bad for her. Healthy little fox with a broken ankle wouldn't be any trouble and his kids would enjoy tending to her."

"So he took it home?" She shook her head with a rueful laugh. "Of course he did, idiot."

Geralt simply shook his head with a smile. "How would a commoner know she could have been anything else? How many creatures out there endeavor to be in the company of humans? So yeah, he took it home. Meadow healed and, to her unique credit, returned their kindness with her own. He had spared her life and she was able to save his."

"While I admit to her being different, I'm not sure just how different…" Yennefer sighed, turning toward the door. "You don't actually expect me to apologize to _him_ , do you?"

"Nah, Lambert wouldn't care anyway." Geralt walked to stand behind her. "I have to go now, Lambert will likely be heading to see Regis. If it's a trap, I should be there." Yennefer refused to meet his eyes, turning away, and waving him off.

"If you aren't back by sundown I will do something truly regrettable…no matter the cost." She spoke softly, turning slowly to face him. "So you had better see to it you come back, Witcher." Geralt offered her a small smile, leaning in to place a soft kiss at the corner of her pout.

 **OoOoOoO**

"Well, well…what have we here?" Regis appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. "I haven't seen your little fox these past two days, is she well?" He inclined his head to Lambert.

"Dunno, haven't seen her either." Lambert shifted his weight, leaning on an old fence post. "This place isn't in nearly as bad a shape as that other vineyard."

"It would appear that this is nothing more than a place for refuse, as it were." Regis glanced at Lambert, his face drawn with exhaustion. "The more time he spends above ground the more changed an area will become. Anything that feeds on carrion will be drawn to him."

"For what?" Lambert was genuinely curious, and more than a little concerned.

Regis clenched his fists at his side and let out a heavy sigh. "You should see it for yourself, though I can tell you it will be…disturbing. The Elder is the truest embodiment of our kind, the oldest surviving link to our past. To him, I am weak and insignificant, a disgraceful reminder of what we once were."

Lambert rolled his eyes. "Feeling dramatic, are we?" He chuckled, adjusting his silver-sword and checking to make sure he had a strong enough oil. "Fuck him. Higher Vampire, highest vampire…he could be the fucking Empress for all I care. Still have to try and kill him." He gave Regis a once over. "Geralt said Detlaff was able to force lesser vampire's to attack the city." Regis nodded. "Can he do that shit to you? One old ass vamp is bad enough…two of you and we're fucked."

Regis let his lips curl up in the faintest of smiles. "Clever little wolf." Regis brought up a hand, inspecting his claw like nails. "Yes, he is able to force his will on the _lesser_ of his kind…he cannot control me, but I may be unable to fight him."

"Well that's fucking great…" Lambert rubbed his hands over his face with a groan. Geralt came loping up the hill on Roach. Lambert gave a small nod of acknowledgement.

"Lambert." Geralt gave him a curt nod before turning to Regis with a grumbled hello.

"It isn't as if he can force me into mindless savagery, Lambert." Regis tried to sound reassuring. "I've never tried attacking my elder. Orianna was the strongest of us, and she was nearly killed by him. I would be quite useless in a fight without the proper protection…though I've no indication what, exactly, that might even be." Lambert nodded in response.

"Orianna is showing some improvement, having been completely severed from him and offered clean blood." Regis produced a vial from his belt. "Yennefer has been most accommodating."

"Isn't that nice of her?" Lambert sneered. "That's Yen for ya, regular fucking saint." Geralt gave Lambert a warning glance. "Shut it, I think I'm allowed to be a _little_ pissed off at her." He snapped at the older Witcher before turning and heading toward the villa.

The first thing he noticed was the sickly-sweet smell of rotting meat and a bitter tang…likely urine. As he kicked the door open he gaped at the room, the odor intensifying to a nauseating level. Corpses were staked to the walls or left in pieces on the floor, all in various stages of decomposition.

"Fuck." Lambert gasped as Geralt stepped in beside him. A dozen or so dead foxes littered the floor, along with several young elven women with dark hair and light eyes. One girl had several broken fingers and what looked to be a severely broken jaw. Her eyes were wide, terrified, her throat torn open wide enough Geralt could have stuck his fist in the hole.

"He didn't drink any of their blood." Geralt noted, doing his best to avoid the larger puddles of the congealing crimson waste. "There isn't a single human woman among them, no men…"

"It's a warning." Lambert squatted beside the upper torso of a young woman, long dark hair heavily matted down with blood hung around her shoulders. Her intestines spilled out beneath her, legs nowhere to be seen.

Regis stood uncharacteristically still at the door, surveying the room with barely contained fury. Geralt could sense the shift in his mood, his eyes grew solid black as he took in the slaughter before him. "Burn this place to the ground." He whispered, spinning on his heel to leave the house.

Lambert nodded in agreement and followed Geralt outside, casting igni as they stepped away from the building.

"Unusual behavior for a vampire, Regis." Geralt spoke softly, he cast a glance at Regis. "How in the hell does he know about the Aguara?"

"He is an unusual vampire, Geralt. There isn't much he _doesn't_ know." He responded calmly. "I can only surmise that he was unprepared for something like Meadow. It's likely he will continue to act out until he gets what he wants back, though…why Orianna?"

"Oh, you _surmise_ …" Lambert rolled his eyes. "You know, all this shit is weird." He motioned to the house, bugs fleeing the flames. "The last one was about as bad…" He trailed off suddenly. "There's a cave beneath the other vineyard. Elven ruins or some shit down there."

Regis smirked. "Some shit indeed. I believe we know where to start looking for him." Turning to Geralt, no longer smiling. "Centuries of separation from sunlight has weakened him. He must remain in darkness or suffer excruciating pain. Though, it is unlikely to be deadly, it is a significant weakness and one to be thoroughly exploited." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "He will be faster and stronger than Detlaff or myself, to be forewarned."

Lambert exchanged a nod and a shrug with Geralt. "I'm sure we can get him out of his cave." He said with a cocky grin.

Geralt whistled for Roach. "Kiera and Triss will be here by evening, find Meadow, see if she's willing to give us another chance. I have an idea…" Roach whirled around and bolted for the Palace. "I am going to see a friend."

"I will find you then." Regis nodded and vanished. Lambert stood alone for a moment, shaking his head.

"I'll just head back, then." He mumbled to himself.

Lambert made his way down the well-worn path, humming to himself. He was enjoying the heat of the day, sun warming his skin, the smell of flowers and fresh tilled dirt a nice change from the damp smell of death that saturated Velen. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen so much sun, felt warm outside, or saw butterflies. Spring never seemed to come to Velen or Kaer Moren. Brief sunny days and months of rain or snow, he hated it. Hated being cold, the mud, even the smell. Here, it was peaceful…well, most of the time. The food was better, the people kinder. Velen's weather led to many a ruined jacket, torn trousers, and the smell of mold and rot seeping into his skin. Toussaint was Velen's opposite in every way.

Part of him had been ready to quit being a Witcher, despite the obvious fact he'd _never_ actually be able to leave the life behind. He had wanted to, until now. These people were different, and it gave him a small bit of hope. It had been a long time since he'd seen Kovir, thirty years maybe. Or Zerikania, hadn't been there in over a decade. He couldn't remember if they were like Velen or here, but he figured it'd be worth looking into. Ofir was out there and they were a fairly non-judgmental people. With the war leaving Velen mired in conflict and desperate for a savior, they had turned on each other. Perhaps, with time, it would change. Or maybe he needed a change.

He followed the road back to Fox Hollow and Ivan's Tavern. Ivan's children were playing out by the well in the center of the little hamlet. They laughed, carefree and happy. Lambert felt a flicker of jealousy, watching them run and play under their mother's watchful eye. A life he'd never know. He watched them run and play, wielding powers of imagination he'd never known. He'd never experienced running and playing with a stick, imagining you were a knight fighting a dragon to rescue a princess…he'd actually fought a dragon and it was decidedly not as wonderful or glamourous as bards sang it to be. In fact, most of what they sang was bullshit. Lambert chuckled to himself and walked by, artfully dodging jabs with a stick-sword and whirling a little girl in the air as she squealed in delight. No one shouted, no one screamed. An elderly woman smiled at him as he strode by.

Meadow stood beside an old oak tree in a pale green dress, watching the children chase one another in a silly game with a soft smile. He felt the breath rush out of him as she caught him staring. Her crystal blue eyes seemed to shine with an otherworldly light, her hair hung in loose, carefree curls down her back and shoulders. For a moment, he couldn't move, or remember how to breathe. She inclined her head with a demure smile and slipped away. He followed her in a sort of daze.

When he finally caught up with her it was by a small pond, an ancient Willow tree grew at the bank, its branches reaching almost half way across the water. Her back was to him, staring at the water with a sad smile. He moved through the leaves and limp branches as he made his way to her.

"So many dead, because of my meddling." She spoke softly, and by the grace of enhanced hearing alone was he able to make out what she'd said. "It's my fault."

"No, it isn't." He whispered, reaching out and taking her small hand in his. "That thing is a real fucking monster. Those are only the ones he wants us to find, who knows how many others he's killed." He winced at her deepening frown. "That was actually supposed to be reassuring, sorry."

Meadow turned to face him, bringing his hand to her lips. "I…I shouldn't care. They are elves, foxes, but they are not _me._ They are not kin." Her lips touching his skin as she spoke sent a shiver down his spine. She lifted her gaze to his, eyes feral and angry. "But I find myself more and more concerned with the outcome of this. Naturally we meddle with any number of things." She gave him a wry grin. "But a battle of wits with an ancient vampire is suicide."

"Speaking of…Geralt wonders if you might help us once more." Lambert glared across the water, eyes fixed on some far-off point.

Meadow sensed his unease, leaning in and placing a soft kiss against his neck. He gasped, surprised by the contact and turned to her with a crooked smirk. "That woman will be there…won't she?" Her lips danced along his neck again.

"Don't remind me." He groaned, looping his arms around her waist.

"Don't worry, Witcher. She'll not have you." Meadow whispered as she nudged his chin with her nose. "I'm a selfish beast and I will suffer no rival." Lambert chuckled at her and took her small hands in his. He worried about her meeting Kiera, he knew how venomous she could be. He also remembered just how furious Yen had been that morning. He was worried how Meadow would handle them, their hate…or if Geralt even, in fact, had a plan. Triss, to her credit, was more of a bleeding heart than the others.

"It will be fine, Lambert." She laced her fingers with his. " _I_ will be fine."

He smiled softly as he glanced down at their hands again. "I know. But I also know these women and how manipulative they can be."

"Fox." She said with a wink. "Not nearly as crafty as me."

They walked the path to the vineyard villa in silence. Lambert could hear Geralt talking to Yennefer, Triss, and Kiera arguing in Meadows' favor, and what sounded like Eskel laughing. He grinned, if Eskel was here he'd at least have another drinking partner.

"You know, I suppose I should apologize now." Lambert tugged her to him with their joined hands.

Meadow smirked. "I suppose you should, but we both know you aren't the apologizing type."

"I was thinking more that we won't be alone…can't have any fun, you know. _That_ kind of apologize." He grinned wolfishly. "Looking at you right now, I can think of at least a dozen things I'd rather do to you than take you in that room." They stood just outside the reach of the candle light.

Meadow cocked her head to the side, studying him for a moment. She leaned up on her toes and placed a kiss at the corner of his lips. "I think I can help with that." She whispered. Lambert felt a shudder run through him, and he fought the urge to see just how she intended to do that. "Later, we should probably break up the fight first."

"Are you insane, Geralt?! Allowing her, or any of you for that matter, to get involved in a fight with an ancient vampire?" That was Triss, he could imagine her rubbing the bridge of her nose, one hand on her hip.

A loud laugh was Kiera's initial reaction. "Geralt? I'm surprised he hasn't bedded-" Lambert walked in, Meadow just behind him, as Yennefer whirled on Kiera with a glare that stopped her cold. "I apologize, sister."

"Well, fucking lovely. I'm starting to think this Vampire might be better company than you lot." Eskel laughed at the three women bickering. "Lambert! Thank the God's…" He offered him a mug of strong smelling alcohol. "And you must be the little fox that has everyone so on edge." He inclined his head to Meadow.

"I suppose I am." She smiled softly. "What an interesting scar." She noted, tilting her head to get a better view of his face. He frowned and turned away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." She smiled apologetically.

"It's alright, Eskel's a shy sort." Lambert gave the barest hint of a smile. "And he is pretty sensitive about that scar."

Eskel smirked and bowed his head. "It's fine, it is an interesting scar but a fairly boring tale."

"A child of destiny born under a black sun? I'd hardly agree." Eskel's head whipped around so fast Lambert was mildly surprised he hadn't hurt himself. "Sorry…"

"She does that, some sort of weird fox thing." Lambert took a long pull from the mug Eskel handed him. Eskel stared, dumbstruck for a moment as Meadow shifted uncomfortably beside Lambert. "Drink this." He handed her the mug. "Plug your nose though, smells fucking awful."

Meadow plugged her nose and downed what was left. She immediately coughed and gasped. "What the hell _is_ that?!" She wheezed.

"Home brewed vodka." Eskel replied proudly. "My brother here loves to make his own, saved a bit from our last winter together." He poured more into Lambert's mug.

"Took years to get that damn thing to stop leaking." Lambert smirked, taking a sip. "Fuck it smells like drowner piss."

Eskel laughed loudly. "At least it gets you drunk, little brother." They both chuckled at that. Geralt took a seat beside Eskel, his own mug near empty. "So, do we have a plan?"

"Yeah, just hope it's enough of one." Geralt frowned at the mug. "I've gotten Anna Henrietta to enforce a curfew, her soldiers, knights, and anyone who fought a monster patrolling the streets." He glanced up to Meadow. "And a friend lent me this." He held out a ribbon. "Let me see your wrist." She obediently held out her hand, watching as he tied it on.

"It's enchanted…" She noted, sniffing the material. "A teleportation spell?" Geralt nodded, explaining that it would send her to an enchanted book where Syanna, a woman he'd met a year back, would find her and guide her out.

"It's a failsafe in the event that we can't kill, or even slow him down once he sees you." Geralt explained. "I've got a plan to draw him out of hiding, but we have to find him first." Geralt began explaining his plan.

While she listened, Meadow placed a hand on Lambert's thigh, squeezing enough to get his attention. She gave him a sideways glance, whispering "It will be alright" as he held his mug in a vice-like grip. He offered a tight-lipped smile, nodding. Geralt wrapped up and finished his drink. Kiera stood quietly for a moment longer.

"It will never work, and why bother? Just give him the filthy beast and be done with it? You can't hope to kill him." Kiera gave Lambert a mocking smile. "So sorry about your little pet, Lambert."

"Fuck you." He snarled.

"We did that already, remember? I even paid you, as I recall." She made a show of checking her nails.

"Kiera." Geralt's tone brokered no argument and the sorceress gave a slight nod before casting a glare at Lambert. "Given the right motivation, he'll come for her."

"What is his motivation for doing this?" Triss spoke up, glancing toward Yennefer.

"I haven't figured that out yet. Meadow?" The dark-haired sorceress turned her attention to Meadow. Meadow looked to Geralt and then to Lambert before shrugging. "Surely _something_ must have driven him out of his tomb." Yennefer sighed heavily.

"Maybe I could shed some light on our predicament." Regis appeared suddenly in the doorway.

"Nice timing." Lambert rolled his eyes.

"Apologies, little wolf, I was attending to some business prior." He cleared his throat and moved toward Geralt. "As we mentioned on your last visit, he is the oldest of our kind, and the first to be forced here since the conjunction. He's not handled the change well. Perhaps he's simply grown impatient with the waiting."

"Waiting? Waiting for what?" Lambert eyed Geralt suspiciously.

"For the doorway to open again." Meadow whispered. "When we came here it was sudden, horrifying. Many of those who were forced here did not adjust well."

"Indeed, and he less so than most. It was enough to simply be near enough to what he perceived was the doorway home…but when Cirilla defeated the White Frost she also, for better or worse, stopped any future conjunction. Effectively, she trapped him here." Regis inspected a bottle of wine sitting unopened on the table. "He's gone mad with waiting for a chance to go home, a home he is now cast out of."

"That sounds…awful." Meadow lamented.

"His rage will kill us all." Triss spoke softly, leaning on the table. "Well, what can we do? Do we kill him? _Can_ we kill him?"

Regis nodded slowly. "It is possible, though no simple task. Even with your combined power you would be hard pressed for victory."

"Can't we send him back?" Meadow wondered aloud.

"Send him back? Where?! Even Ciri, were she here, couldn't do that…aside from the very obvious fact he'd kill her before she'd had a chance to try." Kiera snorted, giving Meadow a hard look.

"I can…" Kiera's laughter interrupted her. Meadow glared at the table and closed her eyes. In the blink of an eye she and Kiera were suddenly alone. Kiera whirled around, taken aback by their new surroundings. The night was darker than pitch, absorbing much of the light the candles on the table put off. They were in a sort of clearing, surrounded by massive trees that had grown so close together as to make it a sort of cage. She turned to Meadow and let out a shuddering breath. The woman before her no longer an elven maid but a cruel creature with golden eyes not unlike a Witcher and slavering jaws ready to tear out her throat. "I am capable of a great many things, you sniveling bitch." Meadows jaws hardly moved, her voice more growl than actual words. It was a moment that would haunt Kiera for years to come.

"You'd kill me to prove a point?" She sneered, trying her best to hide her fear.

"I'd kill _you_ for sport." Meadow laughed, the sound sending shockwaves of fear and revulsion through Kiera. "You know so little of my kind, of magic, and yet you seem perfectly content trying to goad me into a fight." The fox-faced woman gave her a sidelong grin, fangs gleaming in the candle light.

"You are the reason we're in this damnable mess!" Kiera shot back, stomping her foot for emphasis.

"Ah…so you believe I've somehow set this nightmare upon your…what? Friends? Former lover?" Meadow moved closer, eyes boring into Kiera. Everything about her made the sorceress cringe, the sound of her speaking, her fox like face, the feral gleam in her eyes. As though at any second she would tear her to pieces. "I have no intention of hurting you, only reminding you that should I change my mind…" She launched toward Kiera, jaws open wide and clawed hands reaching for her face.

Kiera let out a piercing scream.

"What the devil is wrong with you?" Yennefer gave her a rough shove. "Pull it together, would you?" Kiera was visibly shaken, hands at her throat. "Continue." Yennefer turned her attention to Meadow, waiting expectantly.

"I can't send him home. I can, however, create the illusion that he is there. I can use memories, what he thinks it should be…I can use his desires against him and trap him there. Once he's in that state you could kill him or leave him. He'd never break free." She shrugged slightly. "Not before he died of starvation, that is." Meadow caught Kiera's bewildered stare, lips curved in a small smile.

"Sounds too easy." Eskel sat his mug down with a thud.

"Naturally he isn't going to just sit still while I do that, and he would kill me before I had the chance to weave the illusion…you will have to subdue him long enough for me to make him believe what he is seeing. If he doesn't he could possibly break free."

"And then he'd just kill us." Lambert finished. "Are you sure you could do something like that?"

"She can." Kiera spoke softly, not meeting Lambert or Meadow's eyes. "Would spells work on him, Regis?"

Regis nodded slowly. "I believe so, we are not immune to all magic. What are you thinking?"

"I know of a few spells that could put fiends to sleep, with the right amplification I could possibly render him unconscious, albeit temporarily." Kiera glanced to Meadow.

"That'd be ideal, much easier to manipulate a mind at rest." Meadow turned to Lambert. "I told you it would be fine." He glanced cautiously between her and Kiera.

"Drink, you'll get wrinkles lookin' like that." Eskel offered Lambert a mug. Geralt chuckled and nodded in agreement.

Lambert eyed the drink for a moment, considering whether to drink or not. He glanced at Meadow as she ran a finger along the ribbon on her wrist. "No. I'm going to…" He hesitated, glancing back at his brothers. "Not tonight." He whispered. He held a gloved hand out to Meadow. "Come with me."

She lifted her head slowly, tentatively reaching for his hand and following him without another word. He led her down a narrow path and over a short bridge that crossed a small stream. She noticed a small building nearly bursting with flowers. Simple glass panes took the place of walls, archways of dilapidated wood were nearly covered by creeping vines and small, fragrant, flowers that resembled stars. Inside the glass hut were a few candles and a sort of daybed.

"It smells…like spring time." Meadow took in a deep breath. "I love the smell of flowers, delicate and sweet." She leaned into the star shaped flowers.

"Do I want to know what you did to Kiera?" He smirked, one eyebrow raised in question.

Meadow shook her head, her smile dimming. "She is a rather unpleasant woman, isn't she?"

"Didn't answer my question." Lambert leaned against the door frame.

"She won't be an issue, I didn't hurt her if that's what you wanted to know. I just…showed her I'm more than cheap tricks and fleas." Meadow glanced back at him with a playful smile.

Lambert chuckled. "Cheap tricks and fleas, huh?" He moved closer to her. "You may be tricky but you're certainly not cheap." He caught her by the wrist as she tried to dance away from him. "Fleas, though…"

Meadow spun to face him. "I do _not_ have fleas, Lambert." She giggled. They stood facing each other, neither moving. His grip on her wrist loosened, hand sliding down to her elbow as his other hand caught her waist and pulled her closer. She inched her face closer to his, tilting her head to the side as he leaned in to her. An electric shock went through her as his lips brushed against hers, softly at first. She let out a small sigh, leaning into him. He kissed her again, more insistently. They broke apart suddenly, both equally startled.

"Gods, what have you done to me?" He breathed. She didn't answer, her lips colliding with his as her hands began undoing the buttons to his leather jacket, tearing it off of him. He groaned as her tongue traced along his lower lip, begging for entrance. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her tight enough to cause her to gasp. He worked her dress up her thighs, lifting her easily into his arms. Her legs went around his waist as he moved over to the daybed, lowering himself on top of her.

"Lose the pants, Witcher." She hissed, capturing his earlobe between her teeth. He growled in response, undoing the laces as she tugged the offending cloth down. He hooked his fingers under the hem of her small clothes, tearing them off of her with ease. She let out a ragged moan as he entered her, holding her still for a moment.

He moved, slowly at first, delighting in every sigh and moan she made. She moved her hips, urging him to move faster, clawing at his back. He buried his head in her neck, taking in the sweet smell of her hair, the warmth of her body, and the fire building within him. She whispered his name like a prayer, the sound nearly sending him over the edge. He changed tempo, moving faster and harder, leaving her breathless. She bit into his shoulder as her release hit her, the pain of her canines combined with the white-hot heat of her core sending him over right after her, all but growling in his moment of ecstasy.

They lay there panting, and for a moment neither moved or spoke. He trailed delicate kisses along her shoulder and neck as he tried to catch his breath.

"I am not myself when I am with you." She spoke softly, just above a whisper. "I feel things I've never known, and I am afraid of what that could mean."

Lambert lifted his head slowly to look at her. "I don't think you're alone in that." He brushed his nose against hers. Slowly, and with no small effort, he stood, pulling his trousers back up and pulling on his leather jacket. Meadow frowned at him. "What? It's a little cold out here." He smirked.

"I rather liked the view you stole from me." She stood, her dress falling back into place. "I would love to see more of it in better lighting if you'd be so kind." She made her way past him, tugging him behind her. Lambert chuckled and followed her. "Yes, yes…I just might be the death of you." She glanced over her shoulder at him. "You very well could be the first Witcher to die in his _bed_." Lambert laughed out loud at that. _'What a way to go.'_ He thought as he followed her back toward the vineyard.


End file.
